


Would That It Were So Simple

by grapeboy



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Also typical oblivious dier, Angst and Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, happy ending...in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-07 02:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17357288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapeboy/pseuds/grapeboy
Summary: He woke up immediately when he saw who it was. “Dele.”Wow the one person I can’t be angry with!He felt his throat close up and he coughed. “I uh…thought you were already in Spain.”Dele looked damp and sad. His hair was slightly out of order (very unusual) and his shoulders slumped. “Can I come in?”





	1. Isn't It A Bit Late For Second Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16401116) by [JohnMyBeloved](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnMyBeloved/pseuds/JohnMyBeloved). 



> When I say inspired...I mean very loosely inspired but I wanted to credit that amazing fic because it did give me the idea for writing this :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric's been trying to wrap his head around Dele's transfer but then Dele shows up at Eric's house unannounced very early in the morning, before his flight out of England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Set circa 2021  
> \- I don't watch la liga, so take anything I write about Barcelona with a grain of salt (aka messi is going to live forever)

Eric first heard the doorbell in a dream, disguised as a seagull flying above the sands of some pristine beach Eric didn’t know. But, the second time it rang, he had woken up enough to realize what it actually was and that he was in fact lying in his bed in London with the sun already creeping through the curtains. _Who on earth would be at my house at—_ turning over to look at his alarm clock, he read 6:46 in the red glowing numbers. He groaned loudly and shook himself awake, a whine coming from the warm body next to him.

 

“Sorry Clay, someone’s at my door. Gotta see who it is.” He forced himself out of bed, throwing on a shirt and sweat pants before descending the stairs. The bell was now obnoxiously ringing _Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding_

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!!” Eric growled. His sleepy brain tried to process the situation but the only conclusion it came up with was to ignore it and go back to the warmth of the bed. He persevered on and forgetting the weather, threw the door open welcoming in the drizzle, cold wind, and all.

 

He woke up immediately when he saw who it was. “Dele.” _Wow the one person I can’t be angry with!_ He felt his throat close up and he coughed. “I uh…thought you were already in Spain.”

 

Dele looked damp and sad. His hair was slightly out of order (very unusual) and his shoulders slumped. “Can I come in?”

 

Eric, still in shock, stood there just staring for a moment. _I thought I would never see you again._ “Uh yeah sure, come in.” He stood back and let Dele cross the threshold. Dele walked in and stopped by the door. He took off his shoes and then shook the water off his jacket, hanging it near the door. Continuing to not look at Eric, he walked over to the living room and flopped on the couch.

 

Eric stood by the door, eyes locked on Dele. The last time he had seen him… he didn’t like to remember that. A nasty fight had occurred and both said things that they didn’t mean.

 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for you. But it does feel like you’re leaving us for the glory.” Eric had said, taking a swig of the one too many beers he’d had. Dele had flipped out, calling him jealous and some other choice words. Eric felt bad about it immediately, letting his hurt feelings come out in a bitter out lash of words. So a few hours after the fight, they both apologized over text. Dele had said he didn’t have time to come over to Eric’s because he was leaving today…to his new club…Barcelona.

 

Now looking at the shell of the spirited Dele he knew, Eric’s heart broke even more. “Del,” he said softly, “I’m really sorry for what I said.”

 

“You were right.” Dele croaked. “I’m abandoning Tottenham and everyone for some dumb trophies that don’t mean anything.”

 

Eric froze. _Oh no, what did I do._ “Dele, aren’t you leaving today? Isn’t it a bit late to be having second thoughts?” He walked over and sat opposite of him.

 

Dele’s face was awash with panic and he gripped Eric’s hands. He looked like the frightened 19 year old that Eric had only really seen a few times. “Help me Eric. I made the wrong choice. Get me out of this. I should've stay at the Spurs, not leave the Prem.”

 

A tiny part of Eric cheered. Ever since Dele had told him of the transfer, life felt bland for Eric. He lacked motivation to do much of anything but train and watch rom coms cuddling with his dogs. _This silly crush needed to end 5 years ago_ he told himself over and over. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying to convince Dele to stay with him at the Spurs.

 

But every time in the previous weeks that Eric had talked to Dele about the transfer, he realized that was never going to happen. Dele’s eyes would start to glow when he talked about going to Barcelona. The thought of being able to play with Messi and with their new amazing coach was a topic of many conversations in which Dele would excitedly babble away and Eric grunt in response. But then, softer, Dele would add, “You could visit me! And maybe show me Portugal?” He would bump shoulders with Eric, in an attempt to cheer him up probably.

 

Eric couldn’t deny the warmth that would loosen the knot in his stomach. “I’ll hold ya too it, Delboy.”

 

Despite how much it would hurt him, Eric knew what he had to say now. He went over and sat next to Dele, putting his hand on Dele’s back. “Del? Stop this. You _are_ so excited about Barcelona and you are _not_ just going for the trophies. You’re going to experience a new type of playing, a new country, a new league. This is going to be good for you, Dele!”

 

Dele looked up at him, anxiety tugging at his eyes. “What about me abandoning Tottenham?”

 

Eric scoffed, “C’mon, Dele. You really listened to me, drunk and bitter? I’m—” He paused, knowing he had to be partially honest (and therefore cheesy). “I’m just going to miss you is all.” Dele started grinning. The tension was out of his shoulders and he seemed calm now.

 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Diet. Whose going to drag me out of stuff like this?” He slapped Eric’s knee and leaned against him, putting his own head on Eric’s shoulder.

 

“Well, I’m just a phone call away.” Eric’s voice cracked and he stiffened. _Fuck, don’t be_ _that_ _honest. You can’t be emotional support Eric for him when you’ve been given the perfect chance to finally get over him! Play it cool, play it cool…_ But it seemed Dele had noticed his change in demeanor. He could feel Dele’s stare, but Eric didn’t dare return it.

 

“Eric—“ Dele started but couldn’t finish.

 

Eric shook himself, “Well, your flight’s today, right? What time does it leave?”

 

“An hour.” Dele said quietly. Dele reached out and put one hand on the back of Eric’s neck and the other holding one of Eric’s hands. “Eric, do you ever feel like—like—“

 

Eric started absentmindedly stroking Dele’s hand, “Hm?”

 

Dele took in a shaky breath, “Like—“ He stopped again when Eric turned to him. The colour was rising in Dele’s cheeks.

 

Eric very soft, “Like what, Del?” _What could he be so afraid to tell me? I’m the ones with secrets, not him._ Eric wondered. Their eyes were locked in some sort of trance. Eric felt a pang of sadness again, realizing that this was the last time Dele would able able to just pop by. He stared at Dele’s face, hungrily absorbing every detail before it left him, for good.

 

Dele tore himself away. “I should go catch my flight.” He stood quickly up to go, leaving Eric helpless on the couch, still trying to process that moment. Dele forced on his jacket quickly and was slipping on his shoes. He stood up and put his hand on the door handle.

 

_No its not ending like this._ Eric jumped and strode over to him. He threw his arms around Dele, taking him aback. They just stood there for a moment, holding each other close. Eric felt an understanding passed between them. His broken hearted confession that came a little too late in the form of a desperate hug.

 

_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry._

 

Then, Dele kissed him on the cheek, very _very_ close to his lips.

 

It was soft. And sad. And poignant. “Goodbye Eric.” Dele murmured into his ear.

 

Just like that, he was gone, leaving Eric in a confused jumbled mess. He managed to close the door and stumble into his living room, face first onto his couch.

 

_Well…there goes my sleep for a week._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I have a vague idea about where I'm going with this so don't worry its not over  
> \- I just had to stop editing it five times a day and just publish...  
> \- comments are very much appreciated!!


	2. Wouldn’t Miss A Chance To See You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric tries to deal with the first half of the season without Dele but the press doesn't let him forget his friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- mmm i couldn't wait to post this chapter so sorry for any dumb typos (let me know!!)  
> \- also i can put emojis in! ah!

“A question for Eric Dier. Do you feel the absence of your friend Dele Alli from the team this season?”

 

The lights felt hot on Eric’s face. He cleared his throat, “Um of course we do, he was such a staple for Tottenham in the previous years but we have a lot of new young players coming up that are filling up the hole he left and that are changing the dynamic, which is really good.”

 

He squinted, trying to see the reporter who was asking the questions but the brightness made it impossible. “But do you yourself miss him?”

 

Eric stiffened but laughed it off. “Yeah of course but I think he’s really happy in Barcelona and doing really well there.” A strong cold wind blew through the makeshift interview room causing papers to fly about and reporters to scramble everywhere. He leaned into the microphone, “Looking forward to visiting him and getting away from this England weather.” The whole room laughed and nodded appreciatively.

 

“Any more questions for Eric or Pochetino?” The moderator looked around at the shuffling of the room. “Ok, thank you two very much!” Eric nodded and followed Poch off the stage.

 

When they got in the darkness of the corridor, Eric dropped his smile and glared into the ground. He felt a touch on his elbow, “Ok?” Poch asked.

 

Eric nodded appreciatively and then shrugged, “Gettin there.” His phone dinged with a new message.

 

**Dele**

_Thanks for the kind words, Dier_ 🙏

**Dele**

_So you’re visiting me, good to know ;)_

 

Eric shook his head, smiling wrote back: _You just can’t resist watching my press conferences huh?_ He tucked his phone into his pocket and walked into the celebration of the rest of the team.

 

“Captain Dier!!” Son ran over to him with a paper crown and put it on his head as the whole team started chanting _I Love Eric Diiiieeerrr_ while jumping up and down. They had just beat Manchester City, the team that was at the top of the league, and now Spurs were first, all during a game where Eric himself was captain. _How could I be thinking about Dele at a time like this?_ He felt his phone buzz again but decided to ignore it and join in the festivities. 10 minutes later, Harry Winks bounded over to him, dragging him and a few others out to a bar because, “This calls for a celebration!”

 

That night, sweaty hazy past drunk and sleepy, Eric finally checked his phone.

 

**Dele**

_Wouldn’t miss a chance to see you for the world_

 

“Well, fuck.” Eric said aloud. The floor slipped from under his feet. Feeling something in his stomach, he ran into the bathroom and vomited.

 

* * *

 

 

So yeah, maybe they had just done what they always had done and ignored the soft moment they shared, the day Dele flew to Spain. And maybe there was some part of Eric that still thought about that morning far too often.

 

The first weeks were rough. Eric would be fine during practice, fine talking to everyone else, but those moments when he was alone was when he felt the weight of Dele’s absence most keenly.

 

Son tried to help. His best friend had transferred years earlier after all. Harry Winks glued himself to Eric for the first month, almost to the point of annoyance, as if trying to fill the Dele shaped hole next to Eric. Even Poch had a few talks with him, making sure nothing was seriously wrong. But none of them quite understood what was going on and Eric wouldn’t let them. He just went about his days, pushing his feelings down down down.

 

He got used to it, the love of the game revived him and egged him on. He trained harder, stayed later, ran further, laughed more. It was an exciting season after all, an incredible group of top 4 teams that kept each other on their toes. Every game was a battle but way more often than before, they won. They were more than just a contender for the cup, sometimes they were the favorites.

 

But the press never let him forget Dele. _How does it feel to not play a game by Dele Alli by your side? How is Dele Alli doing? Do you miss the partnership you formed? Did you lose today because you sold too many of your players, like Dele Alli?_ It made Eric want to scream. _Get over him! Like I am trying to!_ It almost seemed like the press was going through a break up, the way they would switch from praising Dele and talking about him with pride, to being bitter and downright nasty about him being at Barcelona.

 

Dele hadn’t texted Eric nearly as much as he used to. Eric understood and even appreciated him doing it. He needed to get into his club and focus on their success, like Eric was doing for the Spurs. Every rare text conversation they had was tinged with melancholy but would last for hours. One time, Dele texted him while shopping in downtown Barcelona, giving him a play by play of everything going on and his miserable Spanish interactions ( _I’m trying Eric, I really am! Spanish is hardddd)._ Then he hadn’t texted Eric for another week.

 

* * *

 

 

The morning after the win, Eric woke up with a splitting headache and vague memories of dreams he wouldn’t tell anyone. The time was 5:05. He checked his phone and groaned when he read the text from Dele again. He still hadn’t opened it.

 

He decided to brew himself a strong pot of coffee and decide what to do. He opened the text and took a deep breath. _How do you respond to a text like ‘Wouldn’t miss a chance to see you for the world’?_ So he did the first thing his hungover mind told him to.

 

**Eric**

😘

 

He threw his phone across the couch in frustration. _Why the fuck did I just do that._ Then he started to hear the bzzzzz of his phone vibrating beneath the pillows. Somebody was calling. He quickly found his phone and his worst fears were confirmed. It was Dele. They hadn’t actually talked since being face to face. Eric rubbed the back of his neck nervously but resolved to answer it.

 

“Del?”

 

He heard a shaky breath on the other end and then. “Heyyyyy Diet!!”

 

Eric winced at the voice in his ear. “Fuck are you doing up?”

 

“I could ask the same of you.” Eric sighed. “Great match yesterday! COME ON YOU SPURS.” Dele shouted.

 

Eric yanked he phone away from his ear. “Yes and I’m quite hungover so please do me the courtesy of not yelling in my ear, thanks.”

 

Dele giggled, “Good to see that grumpy Dier is still the same.”

 

“Hmph.” It was too early to come up with a witty comment in return and Eric’s heart hadn’t stopped hammering in his chest.

 

“Are you actually going to come to visit?” Dele’s voice sounded like it was trying too hard to be casual.

 

“Um, hadn’t really thought about.”

 

“Please do.” Dele said very quickly and then trying to recover added, “It’s going to be so funnnn Diet! Barcelona is lit. Great clubs here, pretty women. And you have a break at New Years” But something in his voice worried Eric.

 

“Dele, you ok?” He asked seriously.

 

Dele scoffed, “I’m fine.” He said curtly. “Guess I won’t see you then.”

 

“I’ll come Dele, geez.” He was frustrated but mostly confused.

 

Dele breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

 

“Well…see you at—“

 

“How’s London?” Dele broke in, panicked.

 

“Miserable weather, Dele are you sure you’re ok? Your tone is worrying me.”

 

There was a long pause, another shaky breath. “Game today. Just worried I won’t contribute anything.”

 

_He feels inadequate?._ “Dele! Every time I see you play, you’ve been amazing! I think you’re a key part of the team already.”

 

“Yeah sure Eric, I’ve started one game the whole season. And scored one goal.”

 

“Yeah but how many assists? How many key passes? Give it time, Del! You just got there.” _Emotional support Eric back at it again, huh._

 

Dele sighed. “You’ve been amazing though. Captain for three games? That’s fantastic, mate.”

 

Eric shrugged, “At least we won the last one.” He felt a warmth go through his body at the rare compliment from Dele but knew better than to acknowledge it.

 

“TOP OF THE—“ Dele stopped yelling and whispered, “League. Sorry, forgot about your hangover.” He paused. “I’m crushed I’m missing this amazing season.”

 

“We miss you too Del. You know we wouldn’t have gotten here without you though.” _Disgusting Eric, god, you’re so whipped._

 

He could hear Dele’s smile over the phone. “I facetimed the lads while you were answering questions. Wanted to congratulate you for being captain and all sooooo that’s why I’m calling now.”

 

“How are you up right now? Has Spain made you a morning person? Do pigs fly?”

 

Dele laughed and nonchalantly said, “Nah, was worried for the game today. Woke up, couldn’t breathe, saw you texted so I called.”

 

“You couldn’t breathe, Dele what the hell? Are you ok?”

 

“Mama Dier makes the return.”

 

“You’re damn right I’m back. Why couldn’t you breathe?”

 

“I dunno. Panic attack I suppose. I’ve gotten ‘m my whole life.” He mumbled so that Eric had to strain to hear.

 

Eric felt a surge of worry. “Panic attacks? Dele, that’s serious. Have you talked to anyone about it?”

 

“I’ve learned how to deal with them, mother hen, its fine.” Dele said exasperatedly but Eric could hear his smile all the way here. Dele took a breath and said quietly, “Talking to you is nice.”

 

Eric felt like his grin would break his face. “I’m glad.” He paused, “I can keep talking but I have to do things too.”

 

“Yeah?” Eric heard shuffling from Dele’s end. “Well I’ll allow it if you give me a running commentary while ’m cozy in my nice warm bed.” Eric heart him pat a pillow as if to emphasize just how comfy that bed was.

 

“As you wish, Delboy.” So, Eric talked to Dele through washing the dishes, while holding the phone between his shoulder and ear until his neck was strained. Only then did Dele remind him of speaker phone. He talked to Dele while brushing his teeth, taking out the trash, walking his dogs, lifting weights, even taking a shower. He loved hearing Dele’s laugh while he told bad jokes or yelled at Clay and Cisco to keep moving after passing that one street sign they liked. He loved trying to answer Dele’s every question he asked about what was going on: _how cold is it?_ _What colour is your mailbox again? Do Clay and Cisco miss me? What does your shampoo smell like?_

 

When he settled down on the couch, he grilled Dele about his life. _How d’ya like the city? How are the guys at Barca? You made an utter fool of yourself when you met Messi, right?_ In response: Yes, great, of course.

 

“Hey Dier, it’s 7 already, I should get ready to train in a bit.”

 

“Alright Del, well I’ll see you New Year’s Eve, then?”

 

“Yeah! I’ll pick you up at the airport but only this once.”

 

“Of course, you’re too kind.” Eric paused. Dele started to say goodbye but Eric butted in, “Hey, we should do this…more often.”

 

“Yeah. We should.” There was a pause like neither of them wanted to leave,

 

“Bye, Diet.”

 

“Bye, Delboy. Good luck on the pitch today!”

 

“Thanks, mate.” _Beep._ Dele had hung up. Eric sighed. It was the calmest and happiest he had felt in months. Yeah, never again the shoving down your feelings bullshit. He couldn’t wait for the end of the year to come. He couldn’t wait to finally tell Dele how he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- next chapter is Eric visiting Barca for New years!!  
> \- comments always make my day <3


	3. The Bunkers of Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric visits Dele in Barcelona for New Years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- oblivious dier warning  
> \- author never went to barcelona warning  
> \- (can't believe ao3 doesn't have these important warnings listed!)

After a very hectic plane ride, Eric arrived in Barcelona. The sky was dark and the gentle breezes were refreshing compared to the bitter London gusts. He could hear the city, music and gentle ebbs and flows of crowd noises, ramping up for the midnight countdown. He turned to see a car careening down the road towards him. _There’s my ride._ And sure enough, it stopped in front of him with an excited waving Harry Winks?

 

“Eric!” Dele shouted, running over to him and giving him a huge hug. He looked positively radiant and Eric’s heart was already doing summersaults much to his chagrin.

 

Eric smiled, “Nice to see you, Del.”

 

Dele grinned and grabbed Eric’s bag, putting it in the back of the car. _Wow, that’s a first._ Eric bent down and got in the backseat. “Eriiiiicccccc! What’s up!” was Harry Winks’ shouting greeting.

 

“Ay Winksy boy! Awful trip, plane was delayed three hours but I didn’t know until I got there.” Eric groaned. “Didn’t know you were coming!”

 

Harry shook his head in pity. “Last minute thing. I got myself invited to another party because I know you and Dele have uh some catching up to do.” He wiggled his eyebrows. _Is catching up a euphemism that I don’t know about?_

 

“Yeah we’re driving Winks to some girl’s house he just met.” Dele said, giving Eric a pointed look through the front mirror.

 

Winks laughed and turned to Eric. “Dele’s trying to make it sound like I just picked some random woman and asked if I could celebrate New Years with her.” Winks said. “She’s actually a good friend of my sisters and invited me herself.” He folded his arms and looked righteously at Dele.

 

Dele stuck his tongue out at him. “It would’ve made you sound a lot cooler if you just grabbed a person off the street but whatever.”

 

The car screeched to a halt at a red light. If Eric wasn’t so tired, he would be doing the usual ‘holding onto the handle of the car fearing for his life’ while driving with Dele but sitting for three hours in Heathrow airport took out everything he had. He didn’t understand how he could go out all night after playing a football match and training all week but feel like he needed to sleep for a month just after sitting in an airport for a few hours.

 

He drifted in and out of sleep through the chaos while Winks attempted to navigate Dele to the address. He barely registered the knowing look that Winks gave Dele, the squeeze of the arm, and the glance back at him before Winks got out of the car.He was barely aware that Winks said goodbye to him and that he said it back. He didn’t come into the real world fully until he and Dele had been sitting on the roadside for a bit and Dele asked him:

 

“Do you want to get in shotgun?” Eric blinked a few times and nodded.

 

When they started driving again, Eric said, “Sorry for being so out of it. Heathrow was crazy.”

 

“Its ok.” Dele said. He went quiet for a moment and then said, “So, when I got here, one of the first places I went to was called the bunkers of —bunkers of—of um something.”

 

Eric smirked, “The bunkers of something?”

 

Dele glared at him. “Since you’re only here for a day I thought maybe getting wasted wouldn’t be a good way to spend the time and instead…” He held out the instead very long and paused. “We could spend New Years with a nice view of the city on top of the bunkers of something.”

 

Eric put his hand on Dele’s leg, “Sounds like a good idea, Delboy. Take me there.”

 

Silent for the rest of the trip, they climbed up and up curving roads. There was something calming about being in each others company in peace, Eric noticed. He had missed just being with someone like this, well he mostly missed being with Dele period. When they reached a sign that read, “Bunkers del Carmel”, Dele parked on the side of the road and the pair got out of the car.

 

"I like Bunkers of something better, " Eric said grinning, to which he got a punch in the arm.

 

Walking side by side, they ascended the stairs that led up to the flat concrete area. The lights dotted the neighborhoods below, the streets looked like crooked snakes, and the city seemed alive. It was waiting, waiting, everything was a crescendo to 12 o’clock. Or maybe Eric was just projecting his fears of things to come. He looked for Dele and then joined him sitting on the ledge overlooking the scene.

 

“This is beautiful. Thanks for taking me here.” He murmured softly into Dele’s ear, his nose bushing against Dele’s cheek.

 

“Mm no problem Eric.” Dele said in a low voice. He checked the time. 11:50.

 

“2022, eh?” Eric said. “Any resolutions?”

 

Dele was silent for a moment. “Win the world cup.”

 

Eric nodded, “Good one. We will.” He grabbed Dele’s hand and squeezed it.

 

“What about you?” Dele asked.

 

“Mmm, win the World Cup of course.” He paused. “And be more honest about how I feel about things.” He let those words hang in the air. He knew he wouldn’t do anything important with them right now, just saying them to test the waters.

 

“Oh? How curious.” Dele said, turning toward him.

 

“Ya know, tell the press to fuck themselves sometimes.” Dele laughed. _God, I missed his laugh. Wow, I’m really whipped._

 

“Sounds like a great idea, Eric. I’m sure Poch would be thrilled.” He checked the time again and then jumped up in a panic.

 

“What’s wrong, Del?”

 

He was already running away, “I almost forgot the most important thing!” He yelled back. _What on earth could that pretty man be doing?_

 

Dele ran back with a bottle in his hand. “Oh champagne! Dele, you angel.”

 

“I didn’t bring glasses so we’ll just have to do it the old fashioned way.”

 

Eric snorted and gave Dele a look. He got out his phone and turned it on for the time. 11:59.

 

“Get ready Dier, I’ve never popped a bottle of champagne myself before.” Dele said, rubbing his hands to warm them up.

 

“Just don’t point it at me.” He grumbled, shaking his head.

 

Dele leaned down and cupped his hand to his ear, “What? Sorry didn’t catch that. Did you say, aim it at you?” He had that devilish grin on.

 

Eric shuddered, “The worst thing about that happening you would get in a wreck driving me to the hospital.”

 

Dele punched him in the arm again. Eric chuckled and checked his phone again. “Oh oh its midnight Dele, hurry!!”

 

"Ah!" Dele scrambled to try to untwist the wires as fast as he could.

 

Eric looked out over the exploding joyous city. The bells in every church were ringing, and fireworks were beings set off left and right. He heard a loud pop right next to him. The cork had went flying down below and the champagne was fizzing all over stunned Dele.

 

“What are you doing?? Drink it, you idiot!!” Dele grinned and sipped the fizz that was pouring all over him before passing it to Eric.

 

“First words of 2022 and you’re still mean to me,” he said, shaking his head. He was smiling though and his eyes were lit up, as he scanned the city below. He then turned and looked at Eric, licking his lips of the champagne. _This is fucking torture, I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more._ But Eric couldn’t take his eyes off him. Dele stuck his hand out for more champagne and gave him a cheeky sheepish grin. Flushed, he rolled his eyes before handing Dele the bottle. They sat there for a bit, trading swigs of the wine and looking at the celebratory view. Until:

 

“Eric. I’m cold.” His eyes were blinking slowly and he looked like he could fall asleep and tumble off the ledge at any moment.

 

Eric stood up and offered his hand, “Up you go, then.” Dele took it and jumped up, inches away from Eric’s face. Eric froze as his breath got caught in his throat. The cloying smell of the champagne was thick in the air. Dele was staring deep into his eyes and put his hand on the back of his neck. Eric felt that same tension that happened between them on the couch that one morning. Maybe he could just admit it all now, when they were both a little buzzed. Laugh it off the next day as some joke if it didn’t go well.

 

Eric gulped. “Dele—“ His mouth felt too dry to continue anything. Dele’s face was getting more and more worried and he started breathing faster. Eric tried to swallow and then he saw Dele’s mouth open to say something. Dele took a breath in but then he put his other head, defeated, on Eric’s shoulder.

 

“Happy New Year, mate. I’m cold.”

 

“Yeah, you said that.” Eric couldn’t keep the disappointment from the anticlimactic ending of _whatever that was_ out of his voice. “Let’s go home. I’m driving this time.”

 

Dele groaned, “But you’re tired and I know where my house is.”

 

“But your driving will make me lose all my champagne no matter how awake I am.” He smirked. “Plus, you drank a lot more than me.” He turned around to go.

 

Dele grabbed on his neck from behind, and muttered, “Carry me,” into his shoulder blade before jumping up on his back. Eric groaned but knowing it was useless to argue pressed on down the stairs. The warmth was nice, Dele was nice.

 

“Now, you don’t fall asleep, Delboy or we are actually staying here for the night.” He said, dumping Dele into the passengers seat.

 

“I’m not tired,” Dele punctuated it with a yawn.

 

Eric laughed softly, “God, you really are a child sometimes.” He shut the door and went to the drivers side.

 

Dele tried to look hurt but he couldn’t contain his smile. “Go back down this road and turn right at the end of it,” he directed.

 

Eric nodded and started down the road. The whole way back he kept stealing glances at Dele. _This could be it,_ he thought. _This could be the last night_ but his brain wouldn’t let him finish that sentence. _Tomorrow, Tomorrow. I’ll tell him tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i bet everyone's feeling just as disappointed as eric is  
> \- thank you to everyone who has commented, it really means so much :')
> 
> Fun fact! Ben Davies likes Harry Potter (this used to be relevant but I just thought everyone should know!)


	4. Jam Toast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1/1/2022. A day Dele and Eric would remember for a long time.

Eric woke up when the sun started shining on his face through the light blue curtains of Dele’s guest room. He tossed and turned all night, nervousness and dread filling him up. He probably could’ve slept for a few more hours but he heard Dele shuffling around down below and curiosity sat him up and got him out of bed.

 

As he shuffled down the stairs, he heard music float toward him from the room below: _Carolina, maravilha de mulher! Carolina é uma menina bem difícil de esquecer…_ Eric almost started laughing out of surprise. He walked into the kitchen, seeing Dele with his back to him. He was humming along softly and spreading jam on a piece of toast. He turned around, jumping when he saw Eric.

 

“Morning, Dier! Late sleeper, you are.” He smiled. “Came down at the perfect time, jam and toast?” He offered the plate he had just made.

 

“That’s lovely, Del, thank you.” Eric sat down at the kitchen table where Dele set down the plate. He smiled up at him, but Dele was already walking away to get more toast.

 

“Seu Jorge, huh?” Eric raised his eyebrows. “What made you pick that?”

 

Without turning around, he said, “You.”

 

Eric’s eyes followed him as he moved around the kitchen, “That was years ago when I played them for you.” Eric said.

 

Dele shrugged, “Started listening to music in Portuguese when I got here because it reminded me of you.”

 

Eric almost choked on his toast, “Of me?”

 

“Yes.” Dele as he sat down and nonchalantly bit down on the toast. He looked thoughtfully out the window. When he turned back to Eric and noticed he was still staring at him, his mouth slightly opened, he said, “What?”

 

Eric laughed, “You’re just more sentimental than I remembered.” _Coward._

 

Dele rolled his eyes and said softly, “What about your New Years resolution?”

 

“Hm?” Eric got up to get some water.

 

“Ya know. Be more honest about how you feel.” Dele said, his voice wobbly. Eric froze as he was getting a glass from the cupboard and Dele continued, “Mate, you’ve been staring at me strange a whole lot, lately.”

 

Eric thumped the glass down on the counter. He felt all his worry of the night surge through him, adrenaline coursing through his veins so he could run out of Dele’s kitchen any second.

 

“So?” He squawked. He turned on the water to muffle the sound of his beating heart. He drained the whole glass and looked at Dele, who was looking at him expectantly.

 

Eric took a deep breath. “You’re right. I need to be more honest about how I feel. And specifically to you.” Suddenly, the ground felt wobbly so he looked out the window, avoiding Dele’s gaze. “I—uh—um like you. A lot.” A thick silence enveloped the room, and Eric’s mouth went dry. He turned around to get more water, trying not to throw up or cry, he didn’t know which.

 

But then he felt Dele’s arms slip around him, his chin on Eric’s shoulder. “Oh thank god, I like you a lot too Diet.”

 

Eric felt like two ton blocks were being lifted off his shoulders. He turned his head, smiling, “You do?”

 

Dele squeezed him, “Of course, you idiot. You know, for reading so many books, you’re actually not that smart. I thought I made it really obvious.” Eric felt Dele’s smile into his back.

 

Eric turned around to face him, “I can’t believe it. Whaaat?” He ran his hands through his air, staring at Dele’s face. “How—how long have you known?”

 

Dele put his arms around his neck, “Only recently. You really haven’t been able to keep your eyes off me this entire visit.” Eric blushed and looked down. “I was genuinely worried you were going to crash last night, they way you were going. I almost offered to sit on the hood of the car to keep your focused on the road.”

 

Eric shook his head, “Unbelievable you are.” He put his arms around Dele’s waist and leaned his forehead onto Dele’s. “I mean how long have you—like how is this happening—“

 

“Eric?” Dele stopped him.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

 

“Right.” And that he did. Soft lips, and like perfect puzzle pieces did they fit. Eric’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest, as he kissed Dele again and again. He couldn’t quite believe it was real, the man he’d been in love with for five years felt the same way. He slipped his hands under Dele’s jacket and rubbed his back, kissing his hair. Then he looked at Dele’s face, internally pinching himself. _This is not a dream._

 

“You. How long?” He asked breathlessly, not able to form a sentence.

 

Dele put his hand to Eric face and studied the textures of Eric’s hoody. “Probably our entire friendship but I actually realized it before I had to leave for Barca. Never had to think about life without you before then.” Dele looked up with serious eyes

 

Eric leaned into Dele’s hand and kissed it, looking into his eyes. “I never want to not be around you.” Dele’s face crumpled slightly, hand falling away from Eric’s face. “I mean figuratively, Del. I know that’s not possible right now.”

 

Dele buried his face in Eric’s shoulder, “I wish it wasn’t like this.” He mumbled.

 

Eric stroked his hair and kissed his head. “Yeah me too.”

 

Dele hugged him one last time, before pulling himself away and putting the dishes away. “When’s your flight?”

 

Eric checked the time. “Five hours.”

 

“What do you want to do?” Dele asked, leaning against the counter.

 

Eric scratched his head, “Honestly?” He looked out the window. The sky was grey and the wind whipped the trees around. He smirked at Dele, “Drink tea and make out. We’ll see where that leads us.”

 

* * *

 

They were lying under the covers of Dele’s bed, legs tangled together, arms wrapped around each other. Dele was thumbing the side of Eric’s face and jawline.

 

“Dele. We should talk about how this—“ He pointed to both of them, “—is going to work long distance.”

 

Dele groaned and pushed his head into Eric’s chest. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”

 

“So,” Eric said, sitting up on his left elbow, “We’re definitely continuing this?”

 

“Yes,” said Dele, without any hesitation.

 

“Great. Talk once a day?”

 

“And text. More than that though.”

 

Eric furrowed his eyebrows. “Hmph. We already do those things.”

 

Dele narrowed his eyes and then laughed. “Huh. I guess we do. We basically just do the same thing we used to but with kissing.”

 

“And sex. Don’t forget the sex.” Eric said.

 

“How could I?” Said Dele, with a futile attempt at winking.

 

Eric put his hand to his head, as if he was swooning. “That wink, so charming.”

 

Dele giggled. “Speaking of Winks, I didn’t tell you why he was here.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Dele shook his head. “Poor Winks. I vented to him about you and I think he got tired of it. He told me I had to tell you about it because, ‘if I have to hear about Eric one more time, I’m going to tell him myself.” At this, Dele did an outrageously squawky version of Winks’ voice. “So he came here to hype me up. And I think to try to get with his sister’s friend.”

 

Eric shook his head. “He had to deal with me moping too. Man deserves a metal.”

 

“Aw Diet, you were mopey?” Dele teased.

 

“Yes, Dele, I fucking missed you.” He laughed happily. Nothing, not even the dark past months, could bring Eric’s mood down.

 

Dele’s expression turned sad. “Missed you too, Eric.” He started playing with the strings on Eric’s hoody. “I tried not to text you at first because I thought maybe…it would all stop.”

 

“So, what happened?” Eric asked.

 

Dele blushed, “I don’t want to talk about how pathetic I was, Dier.”

 

“Aw, you can’t just say that and expect me not to be curious.”

 

Dele curled into Eric again and mumbled, “I just watched interviews with you a lot.”

 

Eric hugged him and whispered, “I did the same thing.”

 

Dele looked up at him, “Really?”

 

“Yup. We’re both pathetic.”

 

Dele closed his eyes and leaned back on the pillow, “I love you.”

 

Eric kissed him on the nose. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- this is fluffier than marshmallow fluff  
> \- comments always appreciated


	5. Sunset of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few England players get together for the short summer break and go to Greece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- posting two brief chapters tonight :) hope you enjoy!

It was summer break, a short one because of the World Cup being held in winter. There were certainly a lot of grumblings about the whole affair, only FIFA wanted this after all, but the made do and tried to enjoy the break they had. A few of the England players had decided to get together and go down to Greece to have vacation. So that’s where they were, on a boat in the bay of Zakynthos Island, watching the sunset over the Mediterranean.

 

“One time, I was driving home from training and saw that Dele had texted me and I thought aw, wonder what my sweet boyfriend has sent me!” Eric leaned over to Dele and pinched his cheek, who slapped his hand away with a ‘hey’.

 

“What did sweet Del send?” Kyle asked.

 

Dele smirked, “Yeah what did I send, Eric?”

 

Eric sighed and sipped the overly sweet coconut cocktail Dele had ordered. “He sent a picture of an egg.” Eric shook his head, “And captioned it, its (the letter) u.”

 

The crowd of England players that were listening in burst out laughing.

 

“I love how you had to clarify that I didn’t write the word you but rather just the letter,” Dele said, giggling.

 

“Good one, Del.” Stones fist bumped in.

 

* * *

 

 

Eric and Dele had decided to keep their relationship among the England players and a few of the Spurs, trying to keep the whole thing as private as possible. They had both agreed, it was better not to deal with the public, especially when they were just figuring everything out themselves.

 

So far, it had worked out fine. Dele had hung onto Eric until his flight on New Years day.

 

“I’ll call you when I get in.” Eric said, using everything he had to keep himself from kissing Dele’s frown.

 

“Mmkay, Diet.” When Dele hugged him, Eric took a deep breath, inhaling Dele’s scent (which he told himself was very weird afterwards and please never do that again, get a hold of yourself Eric!). He thought he might cry when he walked away but he looked back at Dele anyway. Dele smiled at him and blew him a kiss and an awful wink. Eric laughed, and thought _Yeah I can do this. We can do this._

 

The second he got home and had hugged his dogs, he called Dele.

 

“Diet! How was the flight?” They talked for the rest of day and into the night.

 

Sure, Eric felt sad sometimes. Ok, he felt sad a lot. But, he knew he had a phone call to look forward to at night and that kept him going. At the beginning, he found himself distracted thinking about Dele. He soon learned to stop himself from doing that after an embarrassing incident during training.

 

He had been remembering a time when Dele and him decided to have a penalty shootout competition. Best out of 5 wins. Other one has to be the keeper. Loser has to make the other a three course supper.

 

“Can’t wait to have your disaster of a meal,” Eric said to Dele, who had just jumped the wrong way in goal and was lying face down in the grass.

 

“Keep dreaming, Diet. I’m looking forward to some good Portuguese fare, hm?” Dele said, dusting off his knees.

 

In the end, it was Dele who had won. But right after, he got a call saying his transfer to Barcelona was complete and forgot entirely about the whole thing so Eric had never made the promised dinner.

 

“Eric ERIC!” A voice shouted, awaking Eric from his memory haze. Suddenly, he felt the whoosh of the ball go between his legs and to his mortification, he realized Poch had just nutmegged him to get his attention. “Thank you, now here please.”

 

Harry Winks had slapped the back of his head and snickered, “I’ll tell Dele about that, I’m sure he’ll be touched.”

 

“Wha— how could you tell?”

 

“You had the dumb look on your face.” Winks shook his head.

 

“I don’t—“ But Winks shushed him. _Never again_ Eric had vowed and it worked out pretty well. Every time his mind would wonder to a certain mischievous grin, he would remember that moment, Poch’s snap and Winks’ laugh.

 

* * *

 

 

Dele got a kick out of it when Winks told the story to everyone on the boat in Zakynthos.

 

“What were you thinking about, Diet?” Dele said, poking him in the ribs.

 

“Remembering the many times you lost bets and had to sing for us,” he said with a straight face. No way was he giving Dele the satisfaction of remembering winning the penalty shoot out.

 

Dele didn’t miss a beat. “My beautiful voice got you distracted? I don’t blame you Dier.”

 

“Reminded me of Cisco’s howling, sure.” Eric said, smiling sweetly back at him.

 

Dele opened his mouth to try to counter but then closed it shaking his head. “You win this time, Dier.” He got up and kissed Eric’s hair, before heading down to get another drink. Eric’s eyes followed Dele’s disappearing figure down the stairs.

 

“You’ve got mega heart eyes, there mate,” Harry Kane commented.

 

Eric blushed. “That I do, Harry.” The deck of the boat was clearing out with some mention of a FIFA tournament and all the sudden it was just him and Harry sitting alone.

 

Harry leaned over to him, beer in hand. “Ya know, Eric. This long distance stuff, doesn’t get easier with time, especially that you’re in your honeymoon phase now.”

 

Eric looked confused. “Yeah of course. It’s not the easiest but it’s worth it.”

 

Harry looked down at the white deck. “I care a lot about you and Dele and I’m over the moon for you guys but—“ He paused, rubbing his hands together. “You guys are at the peak of your careers. This isn’t the time to be distracted—“

 

Eric stopped him. “I was only distracted that one time, Harry. It hasn’t happened since.”

 

Harry shook his head. “I don’t mean like that, during practice. I mean your happiness, Eric.”

 

Eric felt coldness seep in around his stomach. “What are you saying exactly?”

 

Harry shrugged. “Sometimes long distance can make things worse.”

 

Eric laughed, “I don’t get it Harry. You remember me at the beginning of the season, I was a mess! Now I’ve never been happier.” Being second in the league at the end of this past season had stung and without Dele, Eric didn’t know how he would have gotten out of that experience in one piece. He remembered the day following the bitter outcome, he had been in bed with the phone to his ear all day.

 

Harry looked at him for a second and then leaned back. “Ok well maybe it won’t be a problem for you and Dele. I know people who… well it ate them up inside, dealing with the distance.” He sipped his beer and looked pensive. “Though, their partner was going through some hard times too and I think it hurt not to be with them.” He smiled at Eric. “I’m not trying to encourage you two to break it off, really I’m not. I’m so happy for you.” He patted Eric on the back.

 

Eric nodded with uncertainty. Harry shook his head. “It seems like you have something really good worked out, I mean it.” He paused again and softer, “It has to be hard through, eh?”

 

“Yeah. It is.” Eric was looking at the sun, slipping under the horizon. It was amazing how literally every color seemed to be represented on the sky.

 

“Eric?” He looked at Harry. “I’m here for you, if you ever need anything, you know. That’s all I was trying to say.”

 

Eric felt a rush of affection for his captain. “Thanks Harry. That means a lot.” He picked at the hem of his shirt. “Sorry for being so defensive. It’s just a knee jerk reaction because of who Dele and I…are.” He didn’t really want to get into his fears about possible intolerance and Harry seemed to read that. He squeezed Eric’s shoulder but said nothing more about it.

 

“The lads really went in at the wrong time. Look at this glorious sunset they’re missing!” The sun had now slipped under the horizon, the purples and blues were all around and above them and the intense red lined the sea ahead.

 

After the colors faded to dark blue and pastel purple, Harry said, “Well, going in to join this FIFA game now.” He nodded to Eric and walked down into the belly of he boat. Eric suddenly remembered his dream with the seagull he’d had the morning Dele left. _There were cliffs and a sunset like this…_ but something about the scene didn’t quite match his dream’s.

 

“Eric?” Dele appeared on the deck and walked over to him.

 

“Hey Delboy.” Eric opened his arms and Dele sat on his lap, arms around his waist and head against Eric’s. “How’d you do in the tournament?”

 

Dele snorted, “Awful. They had me play as MK Dons because we had to play the club we started at.” His voiced turned mocking.

 

Eric laughed and leaned his head on Dele’s shoulder. “Poor you.” He tucked his nose into the crook of Dele’s neck.

 

Dele sighed. They were quiet for a few moments, watching the stars come out. “There’s Orion.” Dele pointed.

 

“I’m impressed Del. Do you know any other ones?” He smirked.

 

Dele scoffed, “Uh yeah!” He looked around. “Um… I just don’t see any other ones yet.”

 

Eric smiled into Dele’s shoulder. “Big Dipper? Thought I saw that one.”

 

He felt Dele shift to look down at him. “Eric, your eyes aren’t even open! I can’t have this slander from someone not even trying.” Eric shifted his head to face Dele and locked eyes with him. Dele leaned in and kissed him, causing Eric’s heart to flutter. Every single time, it felt new and the happiness washed through him all over again.

 

“I think I just saw the Big Dipper,” said Dele grinning, still looking at Eric.

 

Eric groaned loudly. “If you weren’t such a good kisser, I would throw you off the boat for that.”

 

Dele shuffled down to be facing Eric directly and kissed him again. “No you wouldn’t.” They leaned their heads together and Dele sighed again. “I wish we could be like this, gross and cheesy more often.”

 

Suddenly reminded of Harry’s talk, Eric shivered. “You cold?” Dele looked at him concerned and wrapped his body around him more.

 

“I’m fine now, Del. Just fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- by the way, I wrote the egg thing before all this instagram most liked picture nonsense happened...eric's head is so much more than that !


	6. El Classico

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FIFA messes everything up but Derby's are still the stuff of life. And Harry was more right than Eric wanted him to be.

The sun beat on Eric’s back as he sprinted across the field at the Southampton away game. It was early August and normally the season would just be just starting around this time. Now, because of the World Cup change, it was well underway. In an unusually hot summer for England, many of the games had to be paused frequently for water breaks and some cancelled all together. Not even 10 minutes in the game and Eric’s entire back was drenched. 30 minutes in, they had their first water break.

 

“Climate change, “ said Eric, shaking his head as beads of sweat littered the ground.

 

“FIFA,” groaned Winks, pouring all the water he had on his head.

 

Eric raised his water bottle, “Cheers, I’ll drink to that.” He gulped a last swig of water before running back on the field.

 

The game ended in a frustrating tie. A frustrating end to a frustrating day. When Eric got home, felt ran face first into the couch and lay there. He felt Clay lick his ear and head butt him. Eric stuck out his hand to pet him. “You want a walk, huh.” He forced himself up and went to get the leashes.

 

It was calming to walk through the mostly deserted neighborhood but he was frustrated how quickly his thoughts went to Dele and the sad pang that they brought. Harry was right, it had become harder, especially after having that week together. The flight home, Eric had turned down going out with the rest of the English Spurs in favor for spending the last few days in the company of his dogs. He’d given Dele a miserable goodbye. He hated goodbyes. But he was mostly angry with himself for doing that to Dele.

 

It took him a week to apologize. “It’s fine, Diet.” But Dele’s voice was small and sad. The whole thing wasn’t helped by the fact that Dele hated talking about the complexities of their relationship and Eric hated being emotional so they just avoided any discussion of issues. They communicated all the time of course: talking, Facetiming, texting, sending bad memes. Eric just ignored the melancholy that plagued him daily.

 

In September, they beat Arsenal at the Emirates which was always a rewarding feeling. The changing room was alive with every chant being mashed into one another and the music from every speaker blaring at full volume. Dele had phoned in and was passed around the whole team and then back to Eric again.

 

“So any plans tomorrow night?” Dele asked, slyly.

 

Eric stroked his beard, deep in thought. “Hm…probably going to just watch some Parks and Rec or something.” He grinned at Dele who was looking more and more devastated at every word. “I’m kidding, Del, of course I’m watching El Classico!”

 

“I know, Diet. You’re such a bad lier.” Dele shook his head. “Well, I should go to bed now, get some sleep.”

 

Eric’s smile became forced. “Have a good sleep, Del!” Dele nodded and hung up. The happiness he’d felt seconds ago was replaced by the same blanket of sadness he usually felt.

 

“You a’right, Eric?” Harry Kane came over, the smile of a match winner on his face. Eric shrugged. “Want to come over for dinner tomorrow night?”

 

Eric smiled. “I appreciate it but I just promised Dele I would watch his game. Ya know…El Classico.”

 

Harry nodded thoughtfully. “Well, we could all watch it? Hey Harry!” Winks came bounding over. “Want to come over to watch Barca Real tomorrow with us? Erik? Son?” And suddenly almost all of Tottenham was going to Harry’s house to watch the big la liga game. “Ok, Eric how about that?”

 

Eric looked at him helplessly. “Sure?” But he had never felt more happy for the invitation.

 

The next day, Eric rang the doorbell and was greeted by Harry Kane in a halloween sweater. “It’s September, Harry!” Eric said incredulously.

 

“Exactly one month from Halloween!” He said excitedly.

 

Eric shook his head and came in. “Where is your family?”

 

“Visiting Kate’s parents. Her mum’s not doing that well.” He led Eric into the living room where the pre match commentary had already started. Dele’s face appeared on screen as they talked about how he was only the fifth British player to be on a Barcelona team.

 

“Sorry to hear that,” Eric said distractedly as he listened to the pundits.

 

“So how do you think Dele is fitting in at Barcelona, John?”

 

“Well, to be fair to him, its still quite early and the change between the premier league and La Liga can be quite difficult, especially for a player who’s so used to the English way of playing. But as of right now, he’s not fitting in very well. He doesn’t have the flair and tricks up his sleeve that the other players have so he loses the ball quite a bit.” They showed a montage of Dele getting the ball stolen off him.

 

“Oh that’s not fair.” Eric gestured frustratedly at the TV.

 

“We can turn it off, Eric.” Harry said gently.

 

Another pundit tuned in. “John, I think you’re being a bit harsh on Dele. He’s made a lot of assists and even scored a few key goals like the last game against Valencia. For the amount of time he’s being played, he’s really taking advantage of it.” They panned to Dele warming up and Eric felt a swell of pride.

 

“That’s more like it,” he said, leaning back in his chair. Harry shook his head. “Ok, now Harry. You know I’m right.”

 

Harry laughed. “It’s funny to see you defend him when in person you’d be slagging him off. You really like him, its very cute.” Hearing Harry call him cute was only slightly mortifying and he was glad there was no one else around.

 

“Is it that bad?” He grumbled, blushing.

 

Harry patted him on the shoulder, “Come now, that’s a compliment, Eric.” Eric shook his head. The doorbell rang so Harry got up, leaving Eric by himself to watch Dele jogging. _Hm… Fit_ he thought to himself.

 

It was a riotous affair when all the other lads got there in Harry Kane’s crowded living room. They brought some Barcelona gear and were shouting chants in Spanish with bad accents (which assumedly Dele had taught them). Dele didn’t start but came in at the 70th minute when the game was tied 1-1. A cheer that could probably be heard in Spain erupted from the group the second Dele switched in. Eric was so glad he didn’t watch this alone, realizing he would have been miserable. He shot Harry a grateful smile across the room who returned it with a raise of his glass.

 

Umtiti stole the ball from Kroos, passed it to Coutinho, who slid it over to Messi. Messi weaved in between defenders and passed it to Dele. Dele gave it to Demebélé who’s shot was blocked by the keeper and the BOOM Dele rebounded it in. 83rd minute. The whole room exploded, everyones was jumping up and down and hugging each other. In Barcelona, Dele ran to the home fans and blew a kiss to them. Shortly after, he got piled on by every player, even some of the subs. Back in England, they started singing Dele’s song _We’ve got Alli, Dele Alli, I just don’t think you understaaaaand._ Eric felt tears stinging his eyes. He had such amazing friends. An amazing talented boyfriend who’s praises would be sung all over Barcelona that night. Oh, oh if only he could be there.

 

**Eric**

_That was spectacular, Dele._

_*Sends video of the Spurs celebrating*_

 

When Eric got back very late at his home, he felt his phone buzz.

 

**Dele**

_Thanks Diet. Was thinking about you the whole time._

 

Eric watched the video of the goal again. He remembered Dele’s joyous celebrations at Tottenham and his grin that would light up the entire stadium. Tonight, he had just scored the biggest goal of the game, of the season at Barca, and his smile was… bittersweet? Even in the post-game interview, something was holding Dele back. Eric reread the text from Dele. He watched the goal again, the half smile.

 

Harry’s words from the summer came back to him ’ _It ate them up inside, dealing with the distance.’’_ He gulped and looked out the window as tears threatened to fall.  _He's sadder than he's letting on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- comments always appreciated :)


	7. I'm Here I'm Here We're Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations and the group stage for England, a strong favorites to win the 2022 World Cup, go according to plan. Then the Quarterfinals against Portugal happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This fic is divided up by things the pundit’s are saying in italics and then little episodes of the training/the World Cup. Let me know what you think!  
> \- uh also its gonna be angsty and warning of injury descriptions…  
> \- also just realized the Jesse will be 30 and kyle will be 32 at this time but whatevs they’ll still be called up and not retired…
> 
> \- FYI I’m not going to bring up the human rights abuses that are happening in Qatar bc of this WC in this fic but its really an important thing that should be talked about!

_The team arrived at St. Georges Park today. What do you think of the squad this year?_

_I think this could be even better than the 2018 squad, they really showed themselves in the Euros and now that they have matured a bit, they’re a real contender for the cup this year._

 

Eric walked up the steps and into the welcome building at St. Georges Park. “Welcome, Eric!” He smiled at all the cameras on his way in and handed his shoes and passport in.

 

“World Cup 2022, baby!” Raheem Sterling said, hugging him.

 

“Hey Raaaaaz.” They walked to the direction of their rooms.

 

“So, second in the league, huh? Must be a real accomplishment for you,” Raheem said, grinning.

 

“Sorry, I don’t talk to people who are below third.” Eric said, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the man city player.

 

“I seem to remember us beating some small team 5-1 a few weeks ago? That couldn’t have been you, could it?” Then, all the sudden, he felt like a body was catapulted at his back.

 

“Diet!” Dele jumped up and clung onto Eric’s shoulders. He turned around with a smile.

 

“Nice to see you…well feel you and then see you, in that order.”He grinned and hugged Dele, gripping him like his life depended on it. And it felt like it did sometimes because every fiber in his being had been waiting for this moment since the summer. Dele slipped out of his arms, smiling at Raheem.

 

“Del!” Raheem hugged him.

 

“So new FIFA stats, huh?” He said, grinning slyly at Raheem.

 

Eric rolled his eyes and was already zoning out, thinking about the next few weeks, when he noticed Dele’s gently bumping into his side and his hand slipping into his own. _I’m here I’m here We’re here._ Eric felt himself melting into a dumb smile. When they got to Dele’s door, Raz kept going off to his room. Dele turned to Eric and tilted his head.

 

“Eric.” He said, a statement.

 

Eric, looked down smiling and bit his lip. “Dele.”

 

Dele opened the door and they both went into his room.

 

Watching Dele put his stuff away, Eric felt almost shy. There were so many things he wanted to tell them, feelings that is, almost bursting out and he didn’t know what kind of form they would take. But then Dele came over to him and the shouting in his mind was quieted. Dele touched his hand to Eric’s wrist. Eric kept his eyes on Dele’s face, while Dele raked his eyes across Eric’s chest. When their eyes met, they smiled simultaneously. Eric leaned in. Everything felt like it was in slow motion. The touch of their lips, his hand in Dele’s hair and the back of his neck, Dele’s hands running up his back and down down—

 

“Del,” he broke apart breathlessly. “We have to meet the gaffer in 10 minutes.” Dele groaned and settled for tucking his head into Eric’s neck.

 

“Can I come to your room tonight or will you kick me out?” He mumbled.

 

Eric sighed and kissed the side of his head. “Like I could ever kick you out, idiot.”

 

* * *

 

 

_This change in timing of the World Cup, how is that going to affect the England team?_

_Well, first of all, they’re going to have to train in an English November._

_*pundits’ laugher*_

 

Gareth Southgate had told them, “It’s not going to be an easy three weeks. This the first time we’re practicing in the late fall. It’s going to be cold and while we’ll try to avoid the rain as much as possible, we’re going to have to deal with the mud.”

 

And deal with the mud they did.

 

“Five a side. Pickford, Trent, Dier, Lingard, Rashford vs Butland, Walker, Dele, Stones, Foden.” And the whistle blew. The cold seeped through Eric immediately despite the sun peaking through the clouds. Everyone seemed to feel the same way because they were sprinting after the ball, in a feeble attempt to get themselves warm. Rashford scored 2 goals in record time but then Dele and Foden put in 2 right after. Dele was about to score when Eric stole the ball but not without consequence. He slipped on a patch of muck and fell, getting mud all up his left side.

 

Dele was cackling. “The mud suits you, Dier.” He said, giving his hand to help Eric up.

 

Eric attempted to wipe the mud off himself. “I think it would look even better on you.” He winked and came toward Dele his arms outstretched.

 

“No, no. no!” Dele ran away from him, coincidentally slipping an another mud puddle, and ended up in the same predicament. Eric laughed so hard, he was almost crying.

 

Southgate came over sternly. “Lads? What’s going on?” Dele and Eric sobered up quickly and pointed at each other. He looked from one to the other and then smiled, chuckling to himself. “Just go shower. Be back in 20 minutes.”

 

Kyle shouted, “Behave, you two!” To which Dele flipped him off and snuck an arm around Eric, as they walked towards the showers.

 

* * *

 

 

_The England team is off to Qatar! They’ll play their first game in one week._

 

“Last one to the plane’s a rotten egg!” Dele shouted.

 

Eric shook his head, “What do you think we are? Schoolchildren?”

 

Stones looked serious. “Yeah, Del grow up.”

 

Dele sighed but then looked up to see the two of them racing towards the steps. “You bastards!!” He shouted, as he chased after them.

 

In the plane, Eric and Dele sat next to each other. “What do you think about our first game in a few days?” Dele asked, as he was scrolling through instagram.

 

“Hm, excited.” Eric mumbled, trying to fall asleep. He leaned his head on Dele’s shoulder as his eyes dropped shut. He slipped out of consciousness but not before feeling the touch of Dele’s lips on his hair.

 

_Eric Dier has been a force of nature this campaign. It’s really impressive. Not just that he’s scored against Nigeria and Germany but his defensive blocks have been key for the English team this year._

 

“They’ve got a chant for you, Eric, after that goal against Nigeria.” Kyle came running over, his phone in his hand. He thrusted it into Eric’s hands who was in the middle of a tense chess match with Trent.

 

“Kyle, wait I’m—“

 

“Oh by all means, please distract him!” Grumbled Trent, as he surveyed the board. Eric grinned and took away one of Trent’s knights, before looking at the video. _Eric Dier he’s the one, He saved us against Colombia and now against Nigeria, Eric Dier he’s the one._

 

Eric smiled. “Saved us against Colombia and Nigeria? That’s a bit much but I appreciate it.”

 

Kyle shook his head. “You’re literally the only one who scored yesterday, Eric. Please don’t be humble for once in your life.”

 

Eric shrugged, “Nigeria is very good this year.” He turned back to jubilant Trent.

 

“Checkmate!” He grinned.

 

Eric looked at the board, flabbergasted. “Damn you, Walks!”

 

Kyle laughed and fist bumped Trent before leaving. “Oh hey Del! Your boyfriend needs your help.” Eric turned around to see Dele give him a confused look.

 

“Trent has me at checkmate in this game.” He explained, grabbing Dele’s hand as Dele sat down beside him.

 

Dele looked at him, questioningly. “Has you at what?”

 

“Yeah I don’t really know why Kyle said you could help.” He studied the board a bit more before throwing his hands up in defeat. “You’ve really improved a lot, Trent, I’m impressed.” He stuck his hand out for a handshake. “Good game.”

 

The door creaked open again and a flushed Phil Foden came in. “Are you lot done with your game yet? I want to play the chess grandmaster.”

 

Eric and Dele stood up. “He’s all yours.” Eric said, gesturing at his seat.

 

When they got to Eric’s room, he stopped and looked pointedly at Dele. “Delboy?”

 

“What. There’s not a game tomorrow.”

 

Eric leaned against the door frame. “You’re giving me that look again, with the pout and the doe eyes.” Dele leaned closer to Eric, putting his hand on the small of Eric’s back. Eric sighed. “And you know it always works.” The door clicked open and they went inside.

 

* * *

 

 

_So what do you think about the semi-final against Portugal?_

_It’s certainly going to be an interesting game for Eric Dier…._

 

Eric woke up to a hand over his face and Dele’s body half on top of him, fast asleep. He gently shook him off, getting up, and looked out the window. They were staying in a high rise building that looked over the city built on a desert and Persian gulf.

 

“Dier. What are you doing up? Get back here,” Dele said, continuing to take over the whole bed. It was a double so how they thought they could both sleep there comfortably was beyond Eric. And yet, they made it work. _A little like our relationship,_ Eric thought. _Feels like one small thing could push us off if we both don’t try._

 

Eric crawled into Dele, pushing him slightly. “Nervous. About the game today.” Their not sleeping together on game days rule lasted one match.

 

Dele snaked his arms around Eric’s waist. “Me too.” His eyes flipped open. “Is it because Portugal or quarter-final?”

 

“Both.” He put his arm around Dele and traced patterns on his back.

 

“Hopefully it will be a repeat of that game at the Euros, huh?” Dele was quiet for a moment before continuing. “Do you still worry you made the wrong choice?”

 

“No,” Eric replied without hesitation. “But it always feels like— like I’m playing another part of me.” He paused, waiting for Dele’s laughter but it didn’t come. “That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“To me it doesn’t, no. But I don’t have the same experience as you.” Eric turned on his side and looked straight into those brown eyes, shrouded in mystery most times but now open and honest.

 

He smiled. “Thanks, Del. That means a lot.” His voice cracked at the end and he leaned his head against Dele’s. He steadied his breathing. _In… 2…3…4…Out…2…3…4…In…2…3…4….Out—_ Then he felt something wet on the side of his face. He leaned away to see Dele’s face streaked with tears.

 

“Del, Dele, babe, what’s wrong?” Eric attempted to wipe the tears off his face but then he turned away into the pillow. Eric stroked his head and put his hand on his heart, while he took shaky breaths.

 

“I’m just sad, that I’m so happy but soon we’re going to leave each other and have to do the same shit over and over again.” He blubbered into a pillow. He looked up at Eric, face red and puffy. “I mean it’s worth it but I hate it. I hate it so much.” He started sobbing into the pillow.

 

Eric didn’t know what to do. His heart was racing and he wanted to cry but he was angry. At himself, mostly. For putting Dele in so much pain that he _cried._ Dele never cried because of anything other than football. He’d told Eric that the only time he ever cried because of something else was his father. _Once._ And Eric didn’t want to be a reason like that.

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said those words over and over and over in Dele’s ear, trying to kiss him every time like someone kissing a cut to make it better.

 

“Don’t you hate it, Don’t you hate it too?” Dele asked into Eric’s shirt.

 

“Yes. More than anything.” Dele’s body shuttered, as his crying waned. They lay there, arms around each other and sniffling and stayed like that for a while. The melancholy Eric had felt in his heart and now extended through his whole body. He felt like he weighed a ton and was crushing Dele along with it. _I don’t wanna do it I don’t wanna do it I don’t— you have to._

 

Dele forced himself out of Eric’s arms and went to the bathroom. A minute later he came out with tissues and started wiping Eric’s face. Eric didn’t complain. “Alright Diet. Let’s go out there and murder that other part of you on the pitch.” Eric managed a smile. “Because the only thing I love more than you, is England. We’re going to do it this year, we really are.”

 

Eric took a deep breath and let all his worry out in the exhale. “Let’s do this.”

 

* * *

 

 

_England - Portugal, the most anticipated game of the day today. Which team will come out on top?_

 

Their cleats clacked against the marble flooring of the stadium. Eric tried to chat Portuguese with some of the players but the atmosphere was tense and he could only do the friendliness act for so long. He went and squeezed Dele’s hand before going to the proper position in the lineup. He nodded at John Stones, who stood in front of him. It was like they lost all their words right before they walked out. Like if they said one thing, it would change the outcome of the game.

 

When they walked out, the stadium was alive with cheering and screaming and it seemed to rejuvenate the somber teams that had just seconds earlier been soberly awaiting their fate. The anthems went by in nervous energy and then they were on the pitch in their positions. And just like that, the whistle blew.

 

It didn’t take long for the game to warm up. The ball switched from one side to the other very quickly. The first real chance for Portugal came from Sanches and Eric was the one who blocked it, kicking it to Walker who ran up the right side. The second chance for them came from Bernardo Silva weaving in and out which Pickford messily punted right back towards Silva. But Trippier was there to stop him and passed it to Eric. Eric shot up the middle, passed it to Harry Kane who scored.

 

35th minute and they were piling on top of each other. They were in the lead against Portugal and they wouldn’t let it go, not this time. With a new sense of purpose, they continued to play. The England chanters got louder, overpowering the whole Stadium. This was it. This was their time.

 

Then Andre Silva was sprinting down. Eric ran to him, slipping the ball out and running ahead to continue when suddenly a cleat came for the back of his knee and he went down on it.

 

_BOOM_

 

The pain like an explosion rippled through his body. The awful crunch that happened almost made him want to throw up if not for the throbbing that made him immobile on the pitch.

 

He noticed people were huddled around him and he heard the whistle but barely registered anything. All he knew is that something was very very wrong and that was the most he could comprehend. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, he remembered Dele’s panicked question: _Don’t you hate it? Don’t you hate it too?_

 

_It’s a shame really what happened to Eric Dier in that World Cup…a damn shame. All the promise he had to bring his country to victory…_


	8. The World Ends With A Bang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After surgery, Eric comes to terms with his situation and what he has to tell Dele.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- warning for more injury description (s/o to orthoinfo.aaos.org for the help)  
> \- also warning for extreme angst

Eric only saw glimpses of everything. The medics rushing him off the field and the too blue sky overhead. The shiny ceiling of the ambulance and the machines and contraptions hanging over head. The white walls of the hospital and the beeping. Lots of beeping. He started to forget what not being in pain felt like. It enveloped him. Stopped him from thinking about things that he didn’t want to think about. Things being everything he loved before some asshole decided to kick his leg and made him crush his own knee.

 

He woke up in a bed, his throat dry and his vision blurry. He registered a dull ache in his knee that extended up his whole leg every time he twitched. When he blinked his eyes more, he noticed a person in a white lab coat and his agent talking quietly.

 

“Oh, Mr. Dier, you’re awake.” The mysterious man said. “I’m Dr. Amari. I ran the surgery on your knee.” _Surgery? Surgery??_ His panicked thoughts must have translated to his face because the surgeon laughed softly and put his hand on Eric’s arm. “It all went fine. We had to perform surgery immediately because of the open fracture of your patella. The bone broke through the skin and there was a risk of infection. But luckily there were only a few small pieces we had to remove and no complications so you’re on your way to a full recovery.”

 

Eric tried to speak, clearing his throat, but was unable to. His agent handed him a glass of water and he sipped it gratefully. “How long will I be out?” He croaked.

 

Dr. Amari looked nervously at his agent. “I don’t know when you will be able to return to playing football. For most people the healing process can take anywhere from three to six months.”

 

 _That’s it. I’m out for the rest of the season._ Dread crept into his stomach and heart. _What if I’ll never come back. I’m already old, it will probably take longer for me. If I’m out that long, I may never be back like I was yesterday? Today?_ He realized he had no idea what day it was now or when the the surgery was.

 

The surgeon looked again at his agent who nodded. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Dier. If you have any other questions, I’ll leave my card here.” He was out of the room in seconds, his white coat fanning behind him.

 

Eric turned to his agent. “Matt. What happened.”

 

Matt sighed and shook his head. “I was watching the game in the stands. Filipe Afonso was the one who got you down, an obviously dirty tackle. When you fell, you musta’ put all your weight on your knee. Then when you crumpled and didn’t get up, I rushed down to see what was up.” Eric felt stabs of pain in his knee, remembering the fall. “We rushed you off soon after. Medics knew exactly what had happened so they knew what to do. Surgery was last night right after you got here.” He cleared his throat. “Um, Dele—“ Eric’s head shot up. “—almost followed us off. He came here immediately after the game but you were in surgery at the time.” _Dele. Dele Dele. Dele. England…_

 

“Did we win?” He wanted a good— no needed a good answer.

 

Matt smiled. “Yes. It stayed 1-0. You got man of the match.” He pointed to the side table where the award sat. It looked so out of place in this dreary hospital room and Eric didn’t know whether to smile or cry.

 

“Dele brought it when he came last night. He wanted to come again and asked me to tell him when you were up. Doctors say you can’t see him for a while because he’s not family.” He paused. “If I told them, they’d probably—“

 

“No.” Eric said immediately. He wasn’t ready for the gossip to get out. Especially now. After yesterday morning.

 

Matt gave him a look full of pity that Eric despised. “You need a little time?” Eric nodded and he left the room.

 

Eric’s heart skipped. His palms became sweaty and his mouth tasted sour. Alone, all his pain was let loose in his mind. _Not playing football for a whole half a season. Missing the fucking semi-final of the fucking World Cup because of some fucking injury._ His eyes started spouting angry tears as he yelled loudly in frustration. _Everything I have worked for, my last World Cup, and I won’t be there to finish it off. Fucking man of the match, it’s like a pity award_ his mind spat out. His leg throbbed he tensed up more and more.

 

 _Relax Relax_ he told himself. It wasn’t worth the pain in his knee to get angry. So he tried to think of things that made him happy, those getting fewer and fewer by the moment, _not Dele not Dele_. Yesterday was too fresh. _Clay and Cisco going for a walk, De— His sister’s reaction to the surprise party they did, the beaches by Lisbon, New Years Eve at the Bunkers of Something, Dele in his bed yesterday— Fuck._ Tears came to his eyes remembering it. He had resolved not to think about Dele because of what he had decided.

 

A few months before, he had been in a particularly rough place. It was after the loss against Man City, that Raheem had mentioned to taunt him at the beginning of England training. Dele couldn’t call that night because he was going out with the Barca boys after a win. Eric had done that a few times, there was no hard feelings, but all he needed right then was to hear Dele’s voice and so it stung particularly bad.

 

When he was heading out to his car, Harry Kane came and jogged beside him. “Hey do you want to come to my place? Or are you talking to Dele?”

 

Eric sighed. “Not doin anything, Harry.” Harry had been trying to get Eric to come over since watching El Classico and Eric finally relented, today.

 

“So what are we doing?” Eric asked as they walked up the steps.

 

Harry’s keys jangled, as he unlocked the door. “We’re playing FIFA, eating popcorn, having a boys night.” If it was anybody other than Harry saying that, Eric would’ve laughed. Instead, he just nodded with a smile.

 

After 5 games (all where Harry had absolute trounced Eric) Harry turned to him with a serious look. “Eric. You’re depressed.”

 

Eric had almost choked on the popcorn. “M’xcuse me what?”

 

Harry frowned. “I know, I said during the summer that I was just warning you about long distance relationships but now I’m worried.” You almost never go out with the lads anymore. You never do anything during the weekends, Eric! You take your dogs for walks, talk to Dele, do your job and that’s it. Most of the time when I see you, you’re frowning. Eric, you need help.” He put his hand on Eric’s.

 

Eric snatched it away. “So what, you invited me over to beat me in FIFA and tell me I’m depressed? What the hell, Harry.” He started packing his things. _I don’t need this right now._

 

“Dele’s sad too.” That stopped him from running out the door.

 

“Did he tell you?” Eric hissed.

 

Harry shook his head. “You didn’t tell me either. Look, I know you two. I know what you’re normally like, I know how happy you are when you’re together. I know when you’re sad. Dele responds to my texts immediately! Not the previously obligatory wait 5 minutes.” He rolled his eyes.

 

Eric frowned. “Don’t know about that one. He has always responded to mine—“

 

Harry cut him off. “Right, right, I know he loves you. But whenever I’ve talked to him, I notice that he’s lost his Dele spark. And it’s not because he misses Tottenham, I’ve heard the way he talks about Barcelona. It’s you.” Eric felt his face grow hot and his throat close up as Harry continued. “I’m still not saying you should break up. I don’t think that would be a good idea. You make each other so happy. Just…you might need to talk about it, get some help from professionals. There’s no shame in it, you are doing something extremely hard.”

 

Eric took a deep breath. “Night, Harry.” And fled out the house. The next day, he apologized to Harry for the abrupt exit but Harry told him he needn’t worry. “Just keep in mind what I said now, right?” Eric nodded, like he hadn’t been thinking all night about how Dele was sad and not telling anyone.

 

It was then, when he first considered it. Breaking up with Dele. Maybe it was too hard for them right now. He didn’t have time to be worrying about his feelings and Dele certainly didn’t either. _Seems like a pretty heartless reason_ a part of his mind sneered at him. So he had pushed that down in favor of getting excited about seeing Dele again.

 

The second time he had considered it was the day before while holding Dele’s shuddering body before the Portugal game. _It’s not worth it, this. This is just cruel. Torture we’ve created for ourselves._ He had resolved to do it. To have sit down conversation (after they won the World Cup of course). To decide what was best. But then he still had a quarterfinal to play so he shoved it away again.

 

The third time was right now. Sitting in incredible pain, his knee tensed up from stress, coming to terms with his situation. He knew he would do it again, take his anger out on Dele and hurt him like he had done before Dele’s move to Barcelona. And he knew part of him would die, when he did that, because he would ruin the their relationship. He also knew if he wanted to get better, he had to focus on himself, like any smart footballer would. His logical brain fought with his big heart for hours, deliberating, going back and forth, but when he fell asleep he had decided. Next time he saw Dele, they would talk.

 

* * *

 

It never is that easy, is it? A few days later, Dele was finally allowed to visit. It was the day before the semifinal, a godsend that he even could get out of practice. Eric had readied himself. He knew exactly what to say. But when Dele came through that door, Eric suddenly felt on top of the world. _How could I ever leave him? How?_ All worry and dread about his future ceased for a moment as he tried to give Dele a smile. Dele’s eyes were full of fear and sadness but not pity, which was a first for Eric since he had come to from surgery. He nervously came over to the bedside and sat in the chair there. He grabbed Eric’s hand and held it. Eric put his hand up to his own cheek and stared into Dele’s eyes.

 

“Hey.” He said softly.

 

“Heya Diet. How do you feel?” His voice made Eric feel floaty.

 

“Like a bulldozer ran me over and cut off my knee.” _He has such nice eyes._

 

Dele tried to laugh but it came out a weak wheeze. He looked more concerned than anything. “Everyone says hi, they wanted to visit you but thought to wait until you were ready.”

 

Eric grinned. “Unlike you?”

 

Dele snorted. “You were just dying to see me, Diet, I didn’t have to ask.” Then, an awkward silence. Dele hadn’t moved and seemed to not know what to say, which was unusual in itself.

 

“How was the rest of the game?” Eric asked.

 

Dele tried to smile. “We won. It’s all that matters I guess.”

 

“How did the second half feel?” Dele’s hand stayed in his own, not moving. It was like was afraid to touch Eric, afraid he’d accidentally break him. He was still as a statue.

 

“I didn’t play.” He looked down at the ground.

 

“Why?” Eric narrowed his eyes.

 

Dele looked up at him almost guiltily. “I couldn’t. Not after seeing you on the ground like that.” His lip wobbled and a tear came out his eye that he tried to ignore. He looked at Eric for something, some comfort, something.

 

But Eric was broken inside. He couldn’t be the person he had been to Dele. He couldn’t be emotional support Eric anymore, not after what he’d decided. He could barely support himself for that matter.

 

“Can I do anything for you?” Dele asked softly, interrupting Eric’s thoughts.

 

“What do you mean?” He snapped.

 

“I— I don’t know. Wear your jersey underneath mine during the final.” He was looking out the window and Eric could tell he was desperate for the old Eric to return with that last remark. The witty comeback Eric, the loving Eric, the affectionate Eric. But now, Eric could do nothing but stare at Dele, exhausted from pain and being in a hospital.

 

“How did the surgery go?” Dele asked, trying to stir some life into the room.

 

“I was out for it. They had to do it right after they got me here. Open fracture..” He was looking at his knee, with a huge bandage around it, covering the monstrosity that just ruined his life. “Dele.” He stopped as Dele made eye contact with him. “I don’t want you to worry about me.” He started simply.

 

Dele smiled without humor. “That’s impossible, Dier. It’s my job to worry about you.”

 

Eric shifted to be facing Dele, grimacing at the pain. “No No. Your job is to play football well with— without—distractions.” His voice cracked. He couldn’t quite believe what he was doing. But he needed to do this. For Dele.

 

Dele looked incredibly confused. “Are you—what are you trying to do?”

 

Eric gulped. “We— we should— should break up.” He had to choke the words out through the thickness of his throat.

 

Dele was stunned. A deer in the headlights as it were. He stuttered and coughed. “Eric, you need support right now. Don’t shut me out!”

 

Eric shook his head and tried to speak more without breaking down. “Our relationship… was hard, Del. It took a lot more effort than most people’s. My situation would be bad enough for you if we were in the same country but at least we could be near each other.”

 

Dele stood up abruptly and went to the window, rubbing his head, while Eric continued on. “I made you cry, Del. Twice now. That’s too much. I’m supposed to make you happy. Not… this.” He pointed at the two of them.

 

Dele turned around, tears falling down his face. “Stop reading into what I’m feeling. Don’t break this off because of me.” He paused and bit his lip. “You know what? Now that I think about it, its not about me its because of you. So pray tell me, Eric Dier. Why are you—“ He couldn’t finish the sentence and gestured it with his hands.

 

Eric forced his anger so he wouldn’t cry. “Oh ok well let’s seeee. I may never play again. This may be the end of the thing I love doing most. If I know anything about myself, it’s that I take my anger out on the people I love most. I don’t want that for you. I don’t I don’t—“ He paused as he his frustrations bubbled up to the surface. “I’m tired of being sad because of you. I’m tired of slogging through every day to just look forward to hearing your voice. It’s no way to live, Del. You know it just as much as I do, you just won’t admit it because your whole life has been covering up what you actually feel because you’re afraid of facing your inner demons.” _Too far, Eric. Way too far. What the fuck._ He had never hated himself more. _What was I thinking?_ Dele was staring at him, his face contorted trying to keep the tears back. Again.

 

“Del, Del, Del.” He said softly. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me.” Dele was shaking his head and he started to head or the door. “Wait.” He stopped, his hand on the handle, looking down. “All I’m trying to say is…I don’t think…it’s the right time right now…for us.” _I fucked it up, everything, I ruined it, I made him miserable instead of having a good conversation. I don’t deserve anything good. I—_

 

A cold voice interrupted his negative spiral. “Have fun moping in your hospital bed, I have a World Cup to win.” When Eric turned to look at him, he saw Dele’s steely eyes and arms folded, closing himself up and away from Eric. He then tore himself away and slammed the door.

 

_Huh. So the world does end with a bang after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- let me know if I made any dumb mistakes and/or if i bummed you out as much as i bummed myself out


	9. You Know How To Bounce Back?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric works incredibly hard to come back better and stronger than before.

Eric cried. Eric cried more than he thought was capable of anyone with tear ducts. More than he had ever in his life put together.

He cried after Dele left.

He cried when England lost the semifinal again.

He cried when Harry came and told him that it wasn’t his fault.

He cried when he saw that Dele still followed him on instagram and when he couldn’t bring himself to unfollow him.

He cried when he tried to text Dele but it never delivered.

He cried when the physio from Tottenham told him he couldn’t come to practice for three weeks.

He cried when his family came and he spilled out everything.

He cried during New Years, remembering what had happened last year.

He cried when the lasagna he microwaved was cold in the middle.

 

It was in the middle of the TV doing a special about England in the World Cup that he finally told himself to get a grip. “Stop this. Stop this!” He yelled at himself, scaring poor Cisco lying on the couch next to him. “Sorry Cis.” He settled down, with his lukewarm lasagna and forced himself to watch it. _Don’t Cry._ Clay jumped up on his other side and Eric started to tear up because he loved his dogs so much— _DON’T CRY!_

 

“People are so pessimistic in England and I keep trying to tell them, this is the best we’ve done in years! Ok, we lost the semifinals again but look at this squad and their talent young and old? I mean, I think they were even better this year. In 2018, Croatia shut them down in the second half but for the whole time against Argentina, England really gave them a run for their money!” They showed clips of all the chances England had from the semifinal a few weeks ago. Eric forced himself to look when they showed Dele’s amazing shot (alas, blocked by the talented Argentinian goalkeeper). Then they showed the Argentina goal.

 

“Really what they’re missing here is Eric Dier. I mean he would be the one to stop that. ” They showed the goal again, this time in slow motion, as if to really see the agony in Pickford’s eyes as it floated just inches away from his fingertips. The other pundits murmured in agreement.

 

“Ok, that’s enough Television for today.” Eric said, patting his dogs’ heads. He grabbed his crutches and got up, washing his dish. As he watched the chunks of wet tomato float down the drain, his mind wandered to his anxieties. _Is Dele doing ok? Is he depressed? Did he cry as much as I did? Am I going to be on the list of people who fucked him over? Just another obstacle that he has to overcome? Does he know I still—_

 

He slammed his hands on the counter, forcing him awake from his thoughts. It had been three weeks since he broke up with Dele and the wound was still fresh. There was so much he wanted to say, to clarify.  _Write him a letter! He can’t block that._ His sister’s blue eyes flashed in his mind as her words came back to him. So he hobbled over to the counter, where a notebook sat _,_ and began to write.

 

 _3 hours later._ “Now that’s it!” Eric said triumphantly holding the paper up in the air for his confused dogs to see. He then paused, read through it again, and then nodded. _Closure._ He shoved it into a crisp clean envelope and vowed to give it to Harry to give to Dele the next day.

 

* * *

 

The weeks after were some of the hardest Eric ever had to face. His knee refused to magically get better and his sadness lingered in everything he did. He was tired of not being able to do anything but also never felt like doing anything. The one thing he forced himself to do, was to go to every home Tottenham game in an effort to not get depressed. And to support his friends, of course. The first one was torture. He missed everything about being on the pitch: the wind blowing against his face, the grass under his feet, his legs moving, weaving in and out of players, the feeling of a good pass or the satisfying thunk when he would block a goal.

 

But the fans were amazing and lifted him out of his misery. He joined them in the stands and started going to London away games. He learned all the chants, all the songs. And after the first month of misery, he started noticing himself getting a little happier, day by day. He was able to exercise more on his own. He started going on the walks with his dog and his sister, relishing in the brisk air and the days getting longer. He began to notice small things about his neighborhood and go to parts of London that he had never been to. _So this is what the retired life is like. Hm not bad. If only—_

 

At the three month mark, his cast came off, which would probably go on as one of the happiest moments of his life. He could finally begin to train again. The physio kept telling him that it was going to be a long and painful recovery and _don’t get impatient, Mr. Dier!_ But Eric could not keep the smile off his face because of how grateful he was to be back. He was getting ok again, he had done the hardest thing possible, and he didn’t lose himself in the injury like he was worried he would.

 

Tottenham came in third that 2022/2023 season suffering a bitter defeat at White Hart Lane against Manchester United. Eric came down to the field and hugged them all. _It’s ok, lads. You’ve done amazing. We’re gonna do it next season, we really will._ The summer seemed to stretched on in hot lazy days with heat wave after heat wave. But to Eric, every day was more work to get to where he was before. He felt like he had to show people that this knee injury wouldn’t bring him down. The amount of times he was mentioned by the press as this fantastic amazing miracle player for England that got tragically injured was like they was crossing their fingers for another sob story. And he was not about to let that happen.

 

And… yeah, there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think of Dele. As time progressed, he began to realize how in love he actually was. At the beginning he could only think of the bad things he’d said and the pain he’d caused. But then he started to remember small things he loved about Dele, like his laugh or smile or chopstick legs. He would feel the pain of missing tug at his heart and have to take a minute to breath because it hit him so hard. He knew he left the ball in Dele’s court now. The letter (that Harry told him over and over Dele had received) said everything Eric wanted to say. So he had to do the most painful thing: wait. But he was ok with that. He knew he could wait for a long time for Dele. Longer than perhaps was healthy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

* * *

 

The 2023/2024 season started with a bang: Liverpool away, Man City home, Chelsea home, and Arsenal away were their first four fixtures. And Eric started in every one of them.

 

Win.

Win.

Win.

Win.

 

Everyone went wild. Pundits were saying it was a miracle. Excited fans were screaming: _Tottenham are the greatest team the world has ever seen._ Pessimistic fans said, “yeah? well wait until the next game! we’ll lose then.” And yet there they were on Christmas Day, top of the league. Harry Winks held a celebration at his house after Christmas Day training. He claimed he had learned to make mocktails which Eric knew he had to see to believe.

 

He was sipping one of the sweet coconut mocktails Winks had made, delightfully surprised but feeling a bitter twinge of memory, when Harry Kane came over and patted him on the back.

 

Looking at the dance off happening in the middle of the living room, he shook his head. “Getting old, Eric. I can feel it.”

 

Eric nodded in agreement. “30 is already creeping up on me. I just want to settle down…” His chuckle turned into a sad laugh.

 

Harry looked at him concerned. “Still weighin on you, huh?”

 

Eric nodded and folded his arms. Harry drummed his fingers on his glass.

 

“Dele’s coming to the Boxing Day game tomorrow.” Eric felt the blood drain from his head and he stuck his arm out to the table to catch himself.

 

“Hm?” He tried to sound calm and collected but instead gave a panicked squeak.

 

Harry took a deep breath. “He doesn’t talk about you with me anymore but… I don’t know why else he would come.”

 

“Anymore?” Eric thought his heart would hammer out of of his chest. _Dele’s coming Dele’s coming shit shit Dele’s coming._

 

“His way of dealing with it, I guess. Just ignore it.” Harry paused surveying the scene. Eric’s eyes were locked on his face because it was the only thing keeping Eric grounded. He turned and looking at Eric, laughed. “Mate, you need to sit down?”

 

“That would be lovely.” Eric said weakly and moved toward the couch.

 

“Eric! You look white as a sheet. What happened?” Wink’s said loudly, settling next to him. Then his face dawned in realization. “Oh…Dele?” He whispered quietly.

 

“How does everyone know but me?” Eric seethed.

 

Winks gave him a shrug of pity. “He only told me yesterday. Last minute thing I suppose.” He paused and said quietly. “Have you guys not talked since last December?” Eric nodded and Winks raised his eyebrows. “Hm.” He looked nervously at Eric at then away.

 

“What?” Eric snapped.

 

Winks shrugged. “I’d be careful around him tomorrow is all.” He stood up. “Need another mocktail?”

 

Eric couldn’t swallow. “Ehm yeah, I’ll take one.” _I need to leave leave leave leave leave leave._ “Actually, Winks? I think I should go. Didn’t walk my dogs this afternoon.” Winks nodded and gave him a hug, squeezing Eric extra tight like he sniffed out the white lie.

 

“See you tomorrow, Dier.”

 

When Eric got back to his house, he knew he was too jittery to go to sleep so he took the wiggling happy pups for their third walk of the day. The night was brisk and the gusts howled around the suburban houses. But the sky was clear and it was almost bearable when the wind wasn’t blowing straight at him.

 

He looked up at the stars and found Orion, laughing at his memory. The warm breezes, the rocking of the boat, Dele in his lap. 6 months ago he would’ve had to force himself to think about something else but now, he had come to treasure these memories when he reflected back on them. They were truly some of the happiest times. 

 

Imagining seeing Dele tomorrow made him incredibly nervous and what Winks said added fear onto worry. Fear that Dele viscerally hated him. _Which is maybe what I deserve,_ he thought. He shook himself out of his stupor and resolved to play an amazing game and give Dele all the space he needed. _What if Dele wants the opposite—nope nope we can’t have that either._ He stomped angrily on the ground  _Fuck! I thought I was over this freaking out mode, I thought I had dealt with it._ He realized he also needed to let himself have all the space he needed.

 

As he walked in the house, his phone buzzed. He groaned, expecting it to be Harry Kane, asking if he was ok. When he saw who it was, he dropped his phone like a hot coal.

 

**Dele**

_Good luck on the game tomorrow mate! Can’t wait to see you x_

 

Eric looked at it. Looked away. Then looked again. _How Dele-like to just text me out of the blue like nothing happened._ But Eric was grinning from ear to ear. _He did the x! He doesn’t hate me! The x! Can’t wait to see me?? He can’t wait!! x! He doesn’t hate me!!_ He flopped down on his couch in elation, all worry and care out the window of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i needed winks making mocktails in my fic i'm not sorry  
> \- new chapter coming soon! initially this and the next were one chapter but i thought better of it  
> \- thank you all so so much for your comments!! i can't say enough how much it means so much to me


	10. I Could've Sworn I Saw Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxing Day: Tottenham vs. Wolverhampton. Eric and Dele talk for the first time in a year.

“I’m fucked, Winksy. I’m truly and royally fucked.” Eric was jumping up and down in the dressing room, trying to dispel his nervous energy before the big Boxing Day game. Winks was always the last one to leave the dressing room out of superstition so that was why he was still there, tying his cleats, forced to listen to Eric’s rambling.

 

“Watch your profanity!” He rolled his eyes and stood up. “Eric, please leave so I can leave.” Eric hopped out of the door but stayed a pace away. When Winks ambled out, he resumed his nervous chatter.

 

“Winks Winksy Harry, my man. How can I focus on this game? When I know Del Del delyboy! Is up there! Watching me!” His voice squeaked at the end of every word. He had been proud of how composed he was when Harry Kane had asked him a million times if he was going to be ok. But then as they were filing out of the dressing room, it hit him. _Oh how the mighty have fallen._

 

Winks put a supportive arm around him. “Why are you so nervous to play with him watching? He’s watched every game so far.”

 

Eric coughed. “He has?” A voice crack.

 

“Yes, yes, Eric. And I’m sure he’s very proud of you.” Winks said too seriously.

 

Eric punched him in the arm. “Why do I even talk to you.” He muttered.

 

Winks laughed and wrapped his arms around Eric’s neck, jumping on him. “Cmon, Dier! Let’s show that pretty boy the team he left behind.”

 

Eric laughed and hugged Harry before lining up.

 

They were playing Wolverhampton at home and in usual Wolves fashion, Tottenham were down one in the first half. But thanks to the spirit in the stadium and the tireless Spurs side, three goals were slipped in during the second half for the home side. The cold rain that had begun to fall in the last 30 minutes only rejuvenated the home team and fans and propelled them toward a magnificent win and an incredible atmosphere.

 

Eric came late into the dressing room, after giving one fan his mud and grass stained shirt. The sign in Portuguese had caught his eye and he found out she had come all the way from Brazil to watch this game. When he walked into the dressing room, everyone was congratulating each other and celebrating. Winks was the first one who came over to him with a big hug and then whispered in his ear, “Look to your right.” And there he was. Dele was sitting on the bench, talking and laughing with Harry Kane. Harry must have said something too because Dele whipped his head up to see Eric.

 

Eric’s mind went blank. It was Dele. He was there. In the flesh. Tanned from the sunnier-than-England Barcelona winter. Wearing his dumb Leo Fortis hat and a dumb t shirt and dumb ripped pants. His eyes were as dark and lush as ever. _I missed him so much_ his brain whined. He didn’t want to know what kind of face he was making because for sure it was a stupid one.

 

Dele was staring at him as well and Eric was now uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was shirtless and his hair, spiky and wet. He tried to smooth it down right when Dele got up and walked over to him. Eric tensed, unsure about what was going to happen next. But then…Dele threw his arms around him. _Please don’t cry please don’t cry_ Eric told himself as he squeezed back. _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry._

 

They stood there for a long time, both never wanting to let go. But when they finally broke apart, Eric saw Dele’s smile again for the first time in a while. It was soft, sad, and poignant.

 

“Eric.” He said.

 

“Dele.” Eric responded.

 

“I got your letter.” He looked at the ground. “Sorry I never…responded to it.”

 

“You didn’t have to.” Eric said in a low voice.

 

He looked up at Eric and smiled again. “Do you want to talk?” In that soft Dele voice.

 

Eric paused. “I need to walk Clay and Cisco…so I can—“

 

“I’ll meet you are your house.” Dele said quickly. “Let me say my goodbyes.” And he left Eric, standing dumbly in the middle of the of the dressing room.

 

The ride home, Eric kept nervously drumming his hands on the steering wheel and switching radio stations. Nothing seemed appealing but he needed noise, noise to distract him and to keep him from spiraling. When he got to his house, Dele’s car was there ( _damn speeder)_ and he was leaning against it, in a long black coat. Eric nodded at Dele and went inside to get the dogs.

 

The rain was now a light mist but the temperatures were not as severe this night as they were the last. They all walked in silence for a few moments, even the dogs, as if they were sensing this important moment.

 

Eric broke the stillness. “I’m sorry for that day in the hospital. That didn’t happen the way I wanted it to.” Dele didn’t say anything but nodded slightly. “I— I— just think we maybe should have prepared for it more than we did. Like… I said in the letter.”

 

“You still feel the same way that you did then? You want to wait until we retire.” His voice was measured but he wouldn’t make eye contact with Eric.

 

Eric bit his lip. _Do I feel the same way?_ Seeing Dele right now reminded him of all the reasons he had wanted to make it work in the first place.

 

“I don’t know.” He answered helplessly. “I missed you a lot.”

 

“Me too.” In the darkness, they found each other’s hands. And that said more than words could ever, really, it always did. That was why they were so close. One touch of a finger and Eric knew exactly how Dele was feeling. It had been that way ever since Eric could remember but he was only realizing it now.

 

“Why did you want to wait?” Dele asked tentatively. “I understood when you were injured and angry but why now?” His hollow voice cracked Eric’s heart.

 

Eric took a deep breath. He started carefully and slowly, making sure his words were exact and clear, not wanting any more misunderstandings or insults to occur. “When we were together, I looked forward to talking to you every day. It kept me going. And then we could talk and it was lovely, those were lovely times Del. But when you would go, and I would look at the darkness of the computer screen and see my face staring back at me I— I felt so alone.” He paused and swallowed. “I don’t think I’m built for long distance. I need to be here and now. It ate me up inside, dealing with it.” Harry Kane’s words came flooding back to him, the truth about himself in them only now coming apparent.

 

“So I’m not worth the pain.” Dele’s voice so cold, Eric’s heart stopped for a second. But the fact that Dele’s hand was still in his, he knew he hadn’t lost him yet.

 

“No, no, no, Del. That’s exactly what I’m trying not to say.” He squeezed his hand. _How can I say this right?_ Eric felt so so out of his comfort zone. But he had to try to be honest for Dele and not to lose himself in frustration and embarrassment. “You’re not worth me taking my sadness out on you as anger.”

 

Dele’s hand squeezed his but then slipped out. He laced his fingers together and looked down at the concrete sidewalk. Eric knew better than to touch him but he wanted nothing more than to hug him.

 

They were quiet until they got to Eric’s door. “Do you want to come in? Some tea?” Dele looked unsure but nodded. He looked cold and Eric could tell that coat doing nothing to help. Eric put on the kettle and refilled the dogs water bowls before leaning at the counter to look at the ever shivering Dele.

 

“Blanket?” Eric asked but was already running up to his room to fetch one. He looked at his bed, messy and unkept. Before he could stop himself, he quickly made it, just in case his judgement went out the window. When he got back down to the kitchen, Dele had a soft smile on his face.

 

When he accepted the blanket, he said, “Mother Hen makes the return.”

 

“She never left,” Eric squeezed his shoulder and went to make the tea. Dele stayed quiet but Eric could feel his eyes watching his every move. He felt his face heat up, his mind going to places he’d rather not remember right now.

 

“Here you go.” He handed Dele the tea. “It might be a bit hot for you now.” He said, trying to hide his smile.

 

Dele sipped it tentatively and his eyes widened as he set it down. “You really like it scalding, don’t you?” Eric raised his eyebrows slurping his tea. Dele made a face to which Eric stuck his tongue out. It was worth it when Dele giggled a little bit.

 

“Eric,” he said sighing, “I’m starting to understand what you said about how playing Portugal is like playing a part of yourself.” Eric looked at him curiously. “I love Barca. I love Spain. I still am a horrible Spanish speaker, “ he laughed, “but I am so happy where I am.” He gave Eric an intense look. “But when I come back here, I realize how much I love England and everyone here and… you. I feel utterly torn sometimes.” Eric put his hand on Dele’s.

 

“You hit the nail on the head, right there.” Eric nodded sadly.

 

“What I don’t understand is how you feel about long distance. But we’re different, I know. And I trust you to know yourself—“ He said the last two words with a roll of his eyes. “—so I won’t push you.” He took a breath, playing with his watch. “I just don’t know if I can wait for you, ya know?”

 

Eric nodded and said softly, “That’s ok, Del.” He couldn’t be sad when just 24 hours before, he thought Dele might hate him. “It’s fine, really it is.”

 

Dele shook his head. “I said I don’t know. Maybe I can. I’ve honestly never felt the way I feel about you about anyone else.” He laughed in quiet disbelief at himself. Then he looked up at Eric and scanned his face. “But— that’s not fair to you. To not know.”

 

Eric shrugged. “Nah, Del. We’ll just see where are lives are when we’re both able to decide about our lives more.” It was all very bittersweet but the contented feeling that sat with him made him sure he made the right choice.

 

“Alright.” Dele’s voice was heavy but he seemed as satisfied as he could be. He stood up and walked over him, wrapping him with his arms in the blanket. Eric looked at him, the face that could get him to do anything. All the yearning in Dele’s eyes that probably reflected his own. He hugged Dele, kissing the side of his head. He felt Dele bury his face in his shoulder, his lips on Eric’s neck and Eric almost let all judgement fly out the window, _almost._ But he forced himself to let go. He grabbed Dele’s arms and looked into his eyes. “We’ll keep in touch yeah? No phone blocking like kids. And you just let me know when…yeah.”

 

Dele nodded. “I will…you’ll know when I do.” He said mysteriously. “It was nice to see you, Diet.” He started gathering his things and said goodbye to the dogs. When he stood in the door, he saluted Eric in salutation and then slipped out into the misty night.

 

Eric looked over to Clay and Cisco who were watching the car screech out of the driveway. They looked back at him, in an unanswered question. “I don’t know either, fellas.” Eric said, shaking his head. He took three deep breaths and then shook himself. “I can do this. We can do this, eh?” He knelt down and his dogs came running to him, licking his face and nuzzling into him. Yeah, this was all he needed right now. Eric was going to be just fine. But he couldn’t help but notice the feeling like something was missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Clay and Cisco are the real mvps in this story  
> \- there's only gonna be 1 or 2 more chapters, folks :') this has been a fun ride with you all, I appreciate your feedback greatly


	11. Never Stopped Me Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric, now retired, sets up a public viewing of the 2026 World Cup Final in Portugal.

July 2026 in Portugal

 

The sun sent gold and pink streaks across the sky over the make shift outdoor sports venue. A mixture of English and Portuguese mingled and the smell of meat and freshly made bread wafted in the warm air. Eric was sitting off to the side, watching the pre game commentary with his England shirt on.

 

It was his first summer retired and his mind was constantly filled with different ideas floating around with what he could do with the rest of his life. He had certainly considered giving all his money away and living in a small hut, being a local school football coach. But he had also considered setting up an international football camp that would focus on giving all kids a chance at playing the beautiful game.

 

He started small, with his first project: joining with an English pub in Lisbon to put on the England World Cup games outside for the general public. Calling it a project was maybe a bit much but he was proud of how it turned out and loved how many people he met. He sipped his beer, surveying the scene. The excited chatter and nervous smiles warmed his heart. England had made it to the final! He was immensely proud of his friends and had no doubt in his mind that they could do it, but the English pessimism couldn’t help but make him nervous.

 

“So Eric Dier really did organize this!” A woman said, coming up to him. Her strong London accent made Eric smile. She was followed by two other people, a man hand in hand with a woman who had a sullen look to her.

 

Eric smiled back. “I did. Are you visiting here?”

 

She nodded. “We have been traveling all of Portugal this summer and what a beautiful country! We were worried we wouldn’t find any England fans to watch the World Cup with but wow have we gotten lucky!” She stood at him gaping.

 

“Glad you could make it!” He responded.

 

“We’re big England fans but some of us are… bigger Arsenal fans than others,” The man said laughing at his frowning friend.

 

She shook her head with a small smile. “I’m bitter about you winning the league after beating us this year but its great to meet you.”

 

Eric laughed. “I am sorry about any pain we caused you.” He knew he would never forget that day, the fixture against Arsenal that sealed the title for them just a few weeks before.

 

_The whistle blew and he fell to his knees. The whole team piled on him in a happy mess of jubilation and adrenaline. When he lifted the trophy, he felt the years of hard work and failure were worth it. The team showed all those who doubted that they were really the greatest team the world has ever seen._

 

_The dressing room was a mad house. Every time a chant stopped, a new one began, some made up on the spot and others not even in English. They lifted Poch into the air and paraded him around White Hart Lane. Afterwards, they went to the local bar and celebrated with the fans. During the next hours, Eric couldn’t tell what time of day or night it was and only measured it by how much voice he had left. He slept for 12 hours the following day and then announced his retirement from football. Time to focus on his next chapter._

 

_He’d wanted to call Dele when he woke up but he hadn’t talked to Dele since right before he’d sustained an injury that kept him out of the Euros in 2024. Eric had texted him advice from his time injured but had received no response. He had acclimated himself with the fact that Dele may have not been able to wait. The gossip papers certainly pointed him in that direction._

 

Eric’s smile wavered so he forced one and asked, “What’s your favorite place you’ve been so far here?”

 

The first woman smiled. “I love Lisbon. It’s a beautiful city.” Eric nodded in agreement.

 

“Some of the beaches were quite nice, very different than any we had ever been to.” The man said.

 

The Arsenal fan quietly added, “Praia Grande was the most gorgeous beach I’d ever been to.”

 

Eric cocked his head, “I don’t think I’ve ever been there. Where is it?”

 

“Southern most end, near Lagos.” She answered.

 

“I’ll have to go there.” Just then the anthems started and they all turned their attention to the screen. The Spanish one was first and a few people sang along. But when the English one played, everyone belted it out loud and proudly. When they panned to Dele with the captain’s armband, Eric’s vision became blurry. _God, he deserves this so much._ The microphone picked up his quiet singing but his face was stern and concentrated.

 

“You proud of him?” The Arsenal fan whispered.

 

Eric turned to her in surprise. She looked a little embarrassed and her eyes moved away. “Yeah, I am. Very proud.” He smiled at her gratefully before looking back at the screen.

 

When the whistle blew, the whole place went quiet. It reminded Eric of before the semi-final in Qatar when he felt like speaking aloud would somehow change the outcome of he game. There were only the frustrated grunts when missed chances happened or relieved sighs when Spain missed. The first goal was tragic, slipping through Pickford fingers like they were water. Eric’s felt his blood boil when he heard murmurings of ‘he’s being too old’ and ‘he’s going to cost them the World Cup’ but he took a breath and kept his cool.

 

During the second half, the game turned around. England dominated the Spanish side and had chances after chances. Rashford’s equalizer rocketed the crowd out of their seats. And then, a dirty tackle in the penalty box and a red card for a Spanish player. Dele stood 11 meters in front of the keeper. A bead of sweat fell down his face. He played with the hem of his jersey and looked up, muttering a silent prayer. The whole venue along with the whole of England, held their breath.

 

And then, boom, clean into the net. Shouts and screams erupted. This is it, football’s finally coming home. The pundits were screaming as well. Eric leaned back with a smile on his face he knew would never leave. He quietly kissed the crest and waited for the final whistle to blow.

When it did, the place erupted in song. _Three Lions on a shirt, Jules Rimet still gleaming, 60 years of hurt, never stopped me dreaming._ They all hugged each other and came over to Eric with elated smiles and warm embraces.

 

“They couldn’t have done it without you, mate. You’re part of it.” One man said, sobbing into Eric’s shoulder.

 

“Please tell them all how much it means to us.” Someone said, grasping his hand.

 

“We love you, We love England,” chanted some young boys hugging him hard.

 

“Hey Eric, look at the screen. Was Dele wearing your shirt under his?” Eric whipped his head up to see Dele, a smile lighting up the entire stadium. He had his jersey in his hands and sure enough, when he turned around Eric saw the familiar Dier 4. He felt like the wind was knocked out of him but made sure to thank the person who told him. When he looked back at the celebrating English team, he saw the Dier 4 again. _Did he wear that the whole game? Wasn’t that stifling? It certainly looked like he did_. Eric laughed quietly, shaking his head.

 

“So, it looks like you’re honoring your old friend there?” The interviewer asked Dele pointing at his shirt.

 

“I am.” His smile was soft and Eric felt his throat tighten.

 

“Why did you decide to do that?”

 

Dele sighed through his nose and scratched his head. “He loved wearing this shirt more than anything else so when he was injured, his World Cup was stolen from him. This is for him.” He lifted up his medal and looked at the camera with a nod, obviously directed at Eric. The people cheered for Eric and started singing his chant and hugging him: _Eric Dier he’s the one._

 

Now he definitely couldn’t see the screen. He waved and nodded at the crowd and walked away. It was all very overwhelming: happiness, regret, bitterness, satisfaction, love. He needed to be alone to process everything. He walked along the quiet streets until he found himself at the sea.

 

* * *

 

The beach was bathed in light from the full moon and the distant sounds of the city along with the sounds of the crashing Atlantic waves soothed Eric. He walked along the shore, kicking at shells and sticks he found, and occasionally saying _Boa noite_ to the people he saw. His mind wandered from the brightness of the moon to his affinity of Dele’s bright smile (that seemed to have finally returned) and his old bitterness about his injury. It pained him that he wasn’t in the squad this year and some part of him did feel like the World Cup was stolen from him. But he was mostly happy because he felt like he did win it in a way, through Dele’s kind gesture.

 

_Dele. Oh Dele._ The one puzzle piece in his life that was missing, the one regret he had. He should’ve tried again, followed Harry’s advice. He had become scared of his own emotions, thinking he would ruin everything, but now he knew he had just missed the boat. Well, probably. Maybe. Did he? His fingers played with his phone, unlocking it, swiping around, and then opened his contacts. His finger hovered above Dele’s number and before he could think about what he was doing, he was calling him.

 

“Heya, Diet.” Eric froze and he regretted everything. _I already called him I can’t hang up…but what do I say??_ “I can hear you breathing, Eric.” He could imagine the small smirk that Dele was probably making.

 

“H-hey Del. Congratulations, mate. That was an amazing match.” He grimaced.

 

“Thanks.” He could hear the sound of people chattering excitedly in the background.

 

“Um, I also ehm… yeah…it means a lot to me that you had my shirt on? During the final and all that.” _How eloquent. Really fantastic._ His mind groaned.

 

Dele laughed. “I saw a video of you reacting to it.”

 

Eric panicked. “Oh god, I don’t even remember what I did.” He racked his brain trying to figure out what had happened. _Did I cry?_

 

“You just looked shocked and happy.” He paused. “I told you I would tell you somehow.”

 

“Tell me…” All the sudden he got it. This was it. This was Dele telling him…everything he wanted to hear.“Oh, Oh my god. You’re serious?”

 

“Yeah, mate.” Dele said softly.

 

He shook his head in disbelief, his smile widening. “You really have a flair for the dramatic huh? Couldn’t just tell me, you had to win the World Cup for me.” His voice cracked at the end.

 

“Of course. Learned from the best,” Dele answered. “Um so I’m on the plane now so I should go soon. We’re flying home to celebrate but after that…” He paused and Eric held his breath. “…can I meet you in Portugal?”

 

“Yes, please do. How about at Praia Grande? It’s a beach someone recommended that I’ve never been to.” His face started to hurt from smiling so much.

 

“I’ll be there, Diet. Looking forward to it.”

 

“Have a grand flight Delboy, say hi to all the lads from me.”

 

“Of course.” _Beep._

 

Eric ran all the way back to the place he was staying and started packing for the beginning of the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- tag urself, i'm the arsenal fan and the one man sobbing on eric's shoulder  
> \- i'm a little unsure about all the winning, maybe its too much (but they frickin deserve it so whatever, right?)


	12. It's True That We Love One Another

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric and Dele meet at Praia Grande in Portugal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i found praia grande by looking up beaches in portugal and now i want to go so bad!! it's worth looking up pictures/videos (so beautiful!)

Eric found Dele on the beach, watching a few seagulls picking in the sand. When Dele heard his footsteps he turned around and smiled at him. They stood in front of each other and stared at each other, unsure of what to do next.

 

Dele pointed at the cliffs behind them. “Did you know those are dinosaur tracks in the rock?” His face lit up.

 

Eric smiled. “Yeah. Pretty magical place, this. Surprised I’d never been here before.”

 

“And you said an Arsenal fan recommended this to you?” He pulled a face as he scanned the surroundings.

 

“She was very nice.” Eric said. The golden sun made Dele’s skin glow and turned his eyes to a light amber.

 

Dele turned to look at him. “So…” He snaked his arms around Eric’s waist and looked up with a small smile.

 

Eric bit his lip. “Del, I’m sorry. For everything. The snapping, the waiting, the—“ Dele put a hand do his lips.

 

“Shhh, that’s over and done with.” He leaned his head against Eric’s shoulder.

 

Eric gulped. “I just— I did you wrong.”

 

Dele looked up at him. “Eric. Honestly, I’ve had a great last two years. Won the champions league. Won the World Cup. The one thing that was missing was you.” His face colored slightly, embarrassed.

 

Eric smiled. “I felt the same way.”

 

Dele all the sudden broke into an ecstatic grin. “You won the league! Eric! You have to tell me about that.” They started walking towards the stairs that led up to the cliffs with the dinosaur prints. Eric slipped his hand into Dele’s and started telling him.

 

“Well, Arsenal scored the first goal. You watched it, didn’t you?”

 

“Of course I did! Who do you think I am?” Dele looked genuinely hurt.

 

Eric laughed. “I’m so sorry I ever doubted you.” The began to ascend the steps, Dele first and then Eric. “It was my fault that goal went in so I began to get very worried thinking that I costed us the title.”

 

“Tut tut Eric. Don’t doubt yourself.”

 

“I know, I know.” Eric paused to reach out and touch one of the imprints. “I did assist the goal right after so my self degradation went away pretty quickly after that.”

 

Dele started jumping up the steps. “I know! I was so proud. I leaned over to my brother and said, ‘I kissed that guy’.”

 

Eric felt himself blush. “So how annoyed was Harry with you after the game?”

 

“Oh, very!” Dele responded gleefully, a few steps a head of him. “Come on, Dier! Don’t let retirement slow you down.”

 

Eric wheezed dramatically. “Not as fit as I was a month ago.”

 

Dele giggled, causing Eric’s heart to jump as per usual. “Continue! The game! So you assisted Winks and then Arsenal scored again.”

 

Eric shook his head. “Yes they did. Weren’t going to let us win easy. It was a dumb call, but they got the penalty, whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “But then, Lamela scored this absolute stunner! And we were back on our rhythm. Oh Del, we tried everything for that third goal. Leno is a very good keeper, I will say. We almost thought we were done for but then well, you know.”

 

“Yeah?” Dele prompted him on.

 

“After KWP was subbed on his first touch was an assist to Juan who foythed it in.” That triggered another laugh from Dele.

 

Then, Dele stopped at the top of the steps and Eric almost bumped into him. He turned and suddenly they were face to face, Dele a bit taller than him. A small smile came over Dele’s face as he put his hand under Eric’s chin. Eric opened his mouth slightly, running his tongue on the inside of his lips. Dele slipped his hand to the back of Eric’s neck and leaned his foreheads against his. Eric put his arms on Dele’s hips and lifted his heels up to touch his lips to Dele’s.

 

All the pain and sadness he’d felt the last years went away in that moment. It was soft, happy, and beautiful. He put his finger on Dele’s jawline and the other hand pulled him closer, as the kept kissing. When they pulled away, Dele set his chin on Eric’s head.

 

“Oh, Diet, you’ve gotta see this sunset. It’s absolutely stunning.” Eric turned around and Dele slipped his arms around his neck.

 

“Dele,” he said half turning around to see him, “did I ever tell you about the dream I had that morning you woke me up before you went to Barcelona?” Dele shook his head. “I think it was exactly this scene. Look, there’s a seagull cawing. That’s what I thought the doorbell was.” He grinned and turned to Dele. “This was meant to be, Del. Fucking magical.”

 

Dele squeezed him. “I heard memory is very faulty and you can make anything up to believe it happened.” His eyes were too serious.

 

Eric closed his eyes, contentedly, letting the sun warm his face. “I won’t let you and your joking ruin this.”

 

He felt Dele kiss his neck. “I couldn’t ruin this if I tried.” He breathed a deep sigh. “I’m so happy Eric. So happy.”

 

Eric hummed in agreement. He took the step up so that he was level with Dele. “I’m angry at you.” Dele looked alarmed. “There’s a beautiful view right in front of me but I can’t take my eyes off you.”

 

Dele blushed and looked away, trying not to smile. “So suave you’ve become, Diet.” He muttered.

 

“I’m working on it.” Eric winked and held Dele close to him. “If only I had known from the beginning, this would have all be simpler.”

 

“Would that it were so simple.” Dele said softly.

 

Eric gave him a curious look. “What a poet, Delboy.” He kissed his forehead.

 

Dele smiled slyly. “It’s from a movie Winks made me watch.”

 

“What movie?”

 

“Caesar salad? Honestly don't remember."

 

“Brilliant, Del.” Eric laughed at him to which he got a poke in the ribs.

 

The walked toward the edge of the cliff and sat down in the grasses. They leaned against each other cheek to cheek and stared at the crashing waves below and the sun sinking lower into the ocean, remaining in silence until the sun set.

 

“Eric?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Remember when I beat you in that penalty shoot out? And you promised to make me dinner?”

 

Eric smiled. “Yeah, I do. What about it?”

 

“You uh never made me dinner. Sooooo I think you owe me.” He was grinning slyly.

 

Eric groaned dramatically. “Fiiiinneee. I guess I’ll follow though.” He stood up and offered Dele his hand. “What do you want,” he bowed low, “my lord?”

 

Dele was smiling a little too much for Eric’s liking. “Hmmmm.” He put his hand to his chin, looking thoughtful. “Something…Portuguese?” He said, as if he had suggested some exotic cuisine.

 

“That might be hard to find here but I’ll see what I can do.” Eric said, trying not to laugh. He and Dele walked towards the house they was staying at, their clasped hands swinging. He looked at Dele and felt like for the first time in his life, he had everything going his way.

 

_Well…there goes my sleep for a week._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- so the title of the fic is from a scene in a movie called 'hail caesar'...totally not a scene deserving of this angsty fic, it is quite funny! but i thought it fit with the theme very well  
> \- wow I'm done? I've never written that much before in my life (amazing what deledier and some procrastination can do!) I want to thank everyone who's encouraged me along the way! i hope you're satisfied with the ending <3


End file.
